


Pestilent Lament

by ChaoticWriterCrazy



Series: The Modern Lazarus [3]
Category: Castlevania (Cartoon), 悪魔城ドラキュラ Castlevania | Castlevania: Lament of Innocence, 悪魔城ドラキュラ | Castlevania Series
Genre: AKA, Also known as the Vlad the Dad AU, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, And stick them all under Dracula's care, Answer: A lot more child endangerment than Lisa would like, Blood and Gore, Body Horror, Canon-Typical Violence, Dracula isn't the villain AU, Dracula vs Frankenstein AU, F/M, Found family themes, Half of whom have truamas in one way or another, I admit this is at least a little bit inspired by the 'Lisa and Vlad adopt Trevor' aus, Illustrations, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kidfic, Lament of Innocence AU, Lisa (Castlevania) Lives, M/M, Multi, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, The FrankenLeon AU, The Modern Lazarus AU, Trauma, Trevor Sypha Adrian Hector and Isaac are all kids too, What happens when you take almost half a dozen superpowered children, Will be adding more illustrations as I go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-25
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2020-10-26 17:57:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 44,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20746382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChaoticWriterCrazy/pseuds/ChaoticWriterCrazy
Summary: What happens when a scientist goes too far in his pursuit of conquering Death, going well beyond the sin of graverobbing? He creates a monster, a shambling abomination strung together from corpses, the likes of which even Dracula has never seen before. It's a seemingly unstoppable force with a single goal in mind: to kill Dracula and allow its master to take control of all the lost knowledge Castlevania hides within its walls.Which isn't necessarily new to Dracula. It isn't the first time people have attempted to kill him to gain knowledge and he doubts it will be the last. It wouldn't be nearly so concerning......If not for the fact that the Monster has the face of someone he once held so dear.Dracula's past with the Belmont family comes back to haunt him in ways he never could have imagined.





	1. Prelude to the true Nightmare

_ It isn’t supposed to end like this. _

_ Bernhard’s castle is in ruins, a crumbled foundation that’s quickly turning to dust along with its master... _

_ It isn’t supposed to end at all. _

_ Leon is standing in front of what had been the gate, his back turned but even from here, Mathias knows something’s wrong. His posture’s so rigid, his hands clenched into tight fists, wind blowing through his coattails and hair obscuring his face... _

_ They were supposed to join him in eternity. Through manipulative machinations, yes, but they were both supposed to be alive, or as alive as being vampires would allow. _

_ He finds Sara at the center of the bloody massacre that had been her home. Her dress was stained red with the blood of her friends, her neighbors, her entire village. She's neatly lain on her back, hands folded over her stomach, eyes closed in a peaceful expression. All in spite the bloody tears staining her cheeks and the stake driven into her heart... _

_ He’d been so tired, felt so old. Elisabetha’s death had left a crater in his heart, one he knows would only get bigger and all the more bottomless when death came for his friends as well. _

_When Leon turns to him, his face is streaked with tears of grief and fury. There’s burning hatred in his eyes that Mathias had never seen before and he **knows**. He knows without a single word that Leon had found out the truth… _

** _It isn’t supposed to end like this!_ **

_ Leon’s words are raw and damning. Grief saturates each word along with the regret. Regret of ever trusting him. Regret of having ever known him. Of ever believing that their friendship was true. _

_ Desperation drives his next actions. He doesn’t care if Leon hates him for the rest of eternity, doesn’t care if he never forgives him, he can’t lose Leon too-! _

_ Of course, this would be the time._**_ This_ ** _ would be the first and only time when Leon would come out on top. Each lash of the morning star, Sara’s magnum opus – the true Vampire Killer – is filled with all the hurt and hatred of a man betrayed by someone he had once held so dear. It scorches Mathias to the bone, leaving behind charred flesh that heals too slowly to keep up with the next strike. _

_ He’s like a wild animal at this point, driven not by rational thought but pure desperation and instinct. All he can think is if he can just get to Leon’s neck, if he could just sink his fangs in, the fight would be won. _

_Leon wouldn’t – _**_couldn’t_** _– leave him then._

_ It isn’t until he’s on his back, his limbs charred and broken to the point where he can’t even get up, the painful tingles of his barely mending flesh shooting through him, that he realizes he lost before the fight even began. _

_ How horribly fitting. _

_ He never expected to face death this night, but Leon has that hard look in his eye, that look that Mathias has never before seen directed at him. A genuine, true desire to kill. To deal out the ultimate punishment. To end a life. A point which Mathias has only ever seen Leon – kind, loving, _ forgiving _ Leon – driven to a handful of times. _

_ Leon doesn’t kill him, however. _

_ He does something_ **_worse._ **

_ Leon leaves him. _

_ He turns his back on Mathias, tears still streaming down his face as he declares the start of their blood feud. That his children – Mathias’s own_**_godchildren_ ** _ – would haunt his every step from now on, and so too would their children and their children’s children. And never again would they put their faith in another vampire. Never would they trust another of his kind. Never would they allow themselves to be hurt or for humanity to be harmed by their selfish, hedonistic machinations. _

_And now, now he can see it. Leon’s truest revenge looming over the horizon. The shadow of Death behind Leon – scythe poised for the moment Leon’s broken heart stops beating – and leaves Mathias truly and utterly_ **_alone._**

“_ No...no don’t go-!” _

_“Leon!”_

Dracula wakes with a gasp, jerking up with his hand outstretched as if to stop his friend from walking straight into Death’s waiting arms. He blinks almost owlishly, his mind taking in his surroundings slowly.

The room is large and imposing, like most places in the castle. The decor and furniture held a certain Gothic style that wouldn’t come into fashion for at least several centuries. Everything is dark except for the blood-red finishing of the bedspread and upholstery of the furniture. Large windows are covered by thick curtains that blot out even the smallest ray of sunlight. Instead, the room was illuminated with candles, dozens of them held in candelabras, or other such holders on nightstands and tables. They cast eerie shadows befitting of a vampire’s castle, rather than the bright electric lights meant for actual human sight.

Home.

He’s...home.

It comes back to him in a slow, melancholy stream. It’s been three hundred years since that terrible night. Leon…

Leon is long dead. Dead, and buried in the ground on a small island surrounded by a river. Time and worms have probably stripped the flesh from his bones.

He wonders if even now Leon still has the circlet, wrapped tightly around his now skeletal hand like a rosary. The metal’s probably become tarnished, the ruby no longer as beautiful-

“You know,” A soft voice says next to him, jerking him out of his reverie. The bed shifts as Lisa props herself up on one elbow and covers her mouth in a yawn, “Most women would be upset to hear another person's name on their husband's lips as he dreams. But-”

She sits up on her knees, bracing one hand on his shoulder for balance before reaching towards his face, sleeve over her other hand as she dabs at his cheeks. The white clothe comes away stained red.

“Something tells me that wasn’t a pleasant dream.”

“No,” He agrees, wiping away the rest himself. He can feel it starting to dry and flake already. “No, it wasn’t.”

“Care to talk about it?”

“Not particularly,” He shakes his head, but feeling that she deserved at least some kind of explanation. “It's just...I dreamed of an old friend that I parted with on..._ unfavorable _ terms.”

“How so?” She asks, tilting her head in a way that he even now can barely resist, and a majority of the time didn’t.

“He...” Dracula hesitates, before venturing out. “You know of the Belmont clan.”

“The ones who were wiped out a month ago,” She says, nodding. “What about them?”

“The reason why they hunted me down,” He says slowly, almost cautiously. “Was because of their progenitor, Leon Belmont.”

“Who was your friend,” Lisa surmises, eyebrows shooting up. “Those are quite unfavorable. What--”

“Please,” He cuts her off, placing a hand over hers. “I don’t...I’m not ready to speak of it quite yet.”

“Why not?”

“...My time with Leon was...the memories are among the most precious I have. It was the time when I was truly happiest, excluding my time with you. But they are also among my most painful memories, for they were my first experience with loss. I didn't realize how truly alone I was until everything went to Hell in a handbasket and I was left to deal with the consequences of my actions.” Vlad closes his eyes, feeling the old scars ache like someone is pulling them open. “And complicating matters is a great deal of shame. I’m not proud of who I used to be, or what my behavior ultimately led to.”

“You think what happened was your fault?”

“I _ know _ it was,” Vlad says, “What I did was dishonest, self-centered, _ manipulative _\--”

With another sigh he gets up from their bed, a large black wood four-poster big enough for five or six people to comfortably share with plenty of room leftover to stretch. He walks straight to the window, drawing open the curtains without the slightest bit of hesitation. The stars and moon are just barely visible, dark clouds swallowing them up as thick raindrops patter against the window.

“I’ve never seen you so hard on yourself.” Lisa follows him to the window, standing beside him with furrowed brows as she looks up at him. “Or openly admit fault so readily to...anything really.”

“I’ve had centuries to come to terms with the consequences of my actions,” He says, staring into his own reflection in the glass. He no longer looks as young as he once had, harsh edges and wrinkles marring what had once been fine features. Grief has proven to be far more effective at aging him than time itself. “But it’s only fairly recently that I’ve truly accepted it as my own doing. The wound is still open...fresh. Poking at it now will just make it worse, especially so soon after the Belmont Clan’s demise.”

“Well, if nothing else it does explain your behavior a month ago when word got to us,” Lisa says, adding thoughtfully, “I found it odd that you were so upset by the news. Most people would rejoice at the demise of an enemy.”

“The relationship I had with the Belmonts was...complicated,” Vlad agrees. “I haven’t truly been attached to any of them as individuals, not since Leon’s children parted from this world. But, they all were…they were like a living memento of Leon. I felt that long as they lived so too would some small part of Leon survive in them. And now that they're gone...it truly feels like so is Leon.”

He still feels the loss. Even now, three hundred years later, he still aches for their presence again. It isn’t as bad as it had once been, when it had felt like a gnawing pit in his heart that grew ever more cavernous. However, there are still days where he would give almost anything to see Leon’s smile one last time. To feel Elisabetha’s hand in his own. Even just to have a chance to hold Sara tight and apologize for the pain he'd caused her.

“I admit hearing you talk just makes me more and more curious,” Lisa says, hand at his arm. She can’t quite comfortably rest it on his shoulder without stretching. “But if you say you aren’t ready to talk about it, I won’t pry. Just promise me that when you are ready, you’ll tell me.”

“Of course,” Vlad says, smiling at her, leaning down to meet her lips in a kiss. “And thank you.”

“You're very welcome,” Lisa says, smiling into the kiss before starting to pull away. She doesn’t pull her hand out of his, tugging at him as she moves towards the bathroom, “Come, the boys will be waking up soon so we should get cleaned up.”

“You go on without me,” Vlad says. “I need some time to myself for the moment. I’ll join you in a few minutes.”

“Very well,” She says with an exaggerated sigh. “Brood away.”

He snorts, chuckling deeply along with Lisa's lighter laugh. And then he adds before he can help himself.

“You remind me of him, sometimes." It feels bittersweet to say but he's still smiling. “Leon used to crack a lot of jokes at my expense too.”

“Oh, really,” Lisa leers up at him with a knowing smirk, folding her arms as she asks, “Did he not let you intimidate him into submission either?”

“Yes, he never let me intimidate him into anything if he could help it," Vlad says, and just when Lisa starts looking just a bit too pleased he adds. "And he also had no sense of self-preservation whatsoever just like you.” 

His fangs glint in a grin as Lisa's smirk turns into an unamused glower. He tried not to let her forget how unwise her decision to bang on the door of Vlad Dracula Tepes with an army of impaled skeletons on his front lawn would be under normal circumstances. Purely to make sure she didn't go make the same decision with someone far less magnanimous than himself, of course, and not to poke fun of her. “You two would have gotten on _ famously _ if he were still around.”

“Makes me wish I could have met him,” Lisa says. “You’ll have to tell me all about him once you are ready.”

“I think you’d have been rather fond of his wife as well,” Vlad says. “She was a woman ahead of her time just like you are.”

“Tell me about them both then, when you’re ready,” Lisa says kindly, turning to head towards the bathroom. “And join me in the bath when you’re done.”

Vlad smiles again as she leaves, only dropping it once the bathroom door clicks shut and he turns to the window, staring at his own reflection.

He hadn’t mentioned it but something about the dream is unsettling him. He hasn’t had that nightmare in well over a century. Having it now felt...ominous somehow.

As if just to punctuate his ominous feeling, lightning strikes. In the brief conversation, the storm brewed and is now raging against the window. The wind howls and rain pelts the glass, lightning illuminating the gloomy scene before him every so often.

He even sees a few of his subjects taking shelter from the rain. A succubus flies towards a tower, gargoyles climb in through windows from their usual perches, a couple of wolfmen race towards the courtyard as they howl indignantly at the sudden shift in unpleasant weather.

Any human lord would be terrified of these monsters besieging their castle like this. Not Dracula. These are his subjects, the residents of the castle. Men, women, and those in-between or neither, all people that would give their lives in the defense of their home without question.

No, it isn’t the monsters that concern him.

It is their surprise that does.

It’s highly unusual for any of the monster-folk to be caught off guard by the weather like this.

He can’t help but frown at the storm.

Rationally, he knows it’s nothing to be concerned with. It's merely one last fall storm before the cold winter is to settle in, nothing more. It’s _unusual_ but not unheard of for monster folk to be caught off guard by the rain and sleet. Just because it occurs when he happened to be ruminating on his past follies doesn't make it some portentous sign of _ ‘something wicked this way comes.'"_

That’s what his rational mind says. The _scientific_ part. The part that would only accept empirical data and absolute proof.

The less scientific part, the part that knows magic exists and not all supernatural beliefs are human ignorance, the one that realizes that omens_ do _exist and sometimes_ do _have meaning...that part would not be put to rest so easily.

“Bath’s ready,” Lisa calls to him, pulling him out of his thoughts.

He turns to glance out the window one final time before turning away. With a single flick of his wrist, the curtains snap shut on their own, closing him off from the stormy night.

A year or two later he’s going to wish he’d listened more to his superstitious side. Perhaps he could have better prepared himself for what is coming.


	2. The webs we weave

The cold winter's night blankets the small farming village of Lupu in thick, wet, white snow. Clouds overhead shadow the moon and turn the night sky into an endless black void with no light, except for the warm light of lanterns dotting the roads and villagers' houses. Thick snowflakes drift down in twisting winds, only visible as they dance into the light of the windows.

Inside Lisa bustles about her trade, taking off her wedding ring to wash and disinfect her hands before gathering medicinal herbs (proper ones, not just poison ivy passed off as medicinal) while an elderly couple sits at her table, an old man with such deeply tanned skin his shock of white hair stood out all the more and an old woman with a slight hunch.

“Here you go,” Lisa says, setting down a bottle full of medicine. “This should help with your heart palpitations. Add a pinch to one cup of tea every day, no more.”

“Thank you kindly,” The man, one Grandfather Joseph says, his voice worn and delicate in that way that only comes from old age. 

“I don’t know what we’d do without you, Doctor Lisa,” Grandmother Maria says, voice light.

“You should avoid any more frights if at all possible,” Lisa says. “Or the next heart attack could be your last.”

Grandfather Joseph snorts.

“That might not be possible, Doc,” He says, scratching at the back of his neck. “Not with the way this sardin’ country’s going to shit.”

“What do you mean?” Lisa asks, turning to him with a surprised look.

“Right, you’ve been away for a couple months,” He says. “Demon attacks have been on the rise. Actual demons mind you, Miss ‘magic’s just a load of codswallop,’ and not just overly large wolves scarin’ kids. Can’t go a day without hearing about another village left in a squalor of gore and blood.”

“They have?” She asks, a little startled. “What on earth happened, I thought they were going down as of late.”

To this, the man makes a discontented growl.

“Dear, don’t start trouble,” The grandmother advises.

“I’ve kept quiet about it long enough; it’s the bloody Church’s fault for killing the Belmonts!”

“Dear!”

“It’s true!” Grandfather Joseph bites back. “Everyone kept going on and on about how the Belmonts were devil worshipin’ heathens, to which I still say what actual devil worshipper goes around killing Satan’s minions. But now that they’re all dead, everybody’s got the nerve to act surprised demons are comin’ back. Of course, they’re comin’ back, you useless louts decided to kill the only people standin’ in their way. Now God’s probably shakin’ his head at our stupidity for sending the Belmonts back to Him so soon when we still bloody needed them!”

“My, you seem, quite passionate,” Lisa says, blinking slightly. “Did you know them personally?”

“Not exactly,” Grandmother Maria says while Joseph deflates so visibly that Lisa wonders what she said wrong. “One of their boys...he gave his life to save our daughter and grandchildren.”

Lisa felt the entire mood somber in that moment.

“I had no idea,” 

“It had to have been, what, a few weeks before the Church decided to burn them all,” Joseph says. “Some monster on the road had ambushed her and her kids. It was literally heading straight for the baby in her arms when this redheaded kid comes out of sardin’ nowhere and yanks her out of the way with his whip. Still have no sardin’ idea how he managed to do that and only leave a little welt on her hip. The kid was barely old enough to be considered a man, had that sort of invincible mentality that only comes with youth. Took care of the monster like it was nothin’ and then… then…”

“It was horrible,” Grandmother Maria says, clutching at her shawl with a haunted look in her eyes. “This patchwork..._ demon _ with a glowing green maw came out of the bushes and-”

“It was quick, at least.” Joseph says, averting his gaze with a low voice. “I doubt he felt anything. Just a loud snap and he’s dead. Blighted creature drags his body off to God doesn’t even know where and nobody able to stop it.”

The room goes silent after that. Lisa isn’t even sure what to say. She only knew of them through her husband. She has no personal attachment to them. But, they had been important to her husband and she highly doubted he would have appreciated finding out one had died in such a manner. 

“We...took his whip back to his family,” Maria says, using a kerchief to dab at the corners of her eyes. “Felt like the right thing to do, all things considered.”

“The thing that pisses me off the most with the whole thing is that I know who the church burned. I might not know their names, but I know who was targeted. Did the church come with all the men home? No, they went after a bloody grandfather older than I am, a handful of mourning widows and sisters, and a bloody _ child _! Like a bunch of cowardly predators, they went after the Belmonts when they were at their weakest!”

“Dear, they’re the church. You can’t say that-”

“Like Hell I can’t, Lisa isn’t going to rat on me and neither would you. As far as I’m concerned the Church can lie in the grave it’s dug for itself! The people in charge are nothing more than power-hungry hypocrites usin’ the Lord’s word for their own gain!”

Grandmother Maria just looks to the sky before letting her head fall into her hand with a long-suffering sigh. Lisa just chuckles.

“I have a feeling you would get along famously with my husband, Joseph,” 

“Oh speakin’ of him, how is-?”

Joseph is caught off by a loud and firm rapping on the door, head swiveling around to look behind him as Lisa and Maria glance that way.

“Now who could that be?” Lisa wonders under her breath, standing up as her chair scrapes the floor. 

“I swear to God if it’s the Church coming to damn you next I’m whackin’ them all with my cane,”

“Dear!” Maria hisses at him pleadingly.

Lisa just smiles at them reassuringly as she walks to the door. The handle turns with a click as she opens her door to find an old man wearing light blue formless robes and two...well they’re either children or very short adults wearing similarly formless blue robes with their hoods up and shadowing most of their features. The smaller of the two is leaning on the old man slightly, while the taller was hiding behind him.

“Can I help you?” She asks, blinking at them a little surprised.

“I hope so,” The old man says, before wrapping an arm around the child nearest him. “This one has a cough that’s only gotten worse since yesterday. And that one,”

He gestures to the one behind him who, upon seeing the elderly couple at her table, just hides even more behind the old man’s back. “Has had a persistent stomach pain that seems to be getting worse. We’ve already tried our own remedies but nothing has worked. When my group got word that you were a reputable doctor, I decided it was best to bring them right away. I realize it’s late, but we saw your lights were still on and were hoping-”

“It’s no trouble,” Lisa says with a smile, standing aside as she sweeps an arm. “Come in, I’ll be just a second. I’m Doctor Lisa Tepes.”

The three strangers wandered in, one child still trailing behind the old man half-hidden. They just tug their hood up further even as their companion pulls theirs down, revealing that they were in fact a young girl with a short bob of carrot colored hair.

As soon as the taller of the two heard her last name they freeze in place.

“Tepes?” They repeat, voice cracking slightly in that telltale manner that came with a boy hitting puberty.

“Yes?”

The boy hisses something that sounds a lot like_ ‘oh fuck me.’_

“What was that?” Lisa asks, certain she must have misheard him.

“Nothing,” He says just a bit too quickly.

She raises a suspicious eyebrow.

“Is there something the matter with my name?”

“It’s just a bit of an odd name, Mrs. Doctor Pointy Sticks.” The boy grouses, annoyed scowl just visible underneath the hood.

“Hey, that’s rude!” The girl snaps at him, hands on her hips as she glares.

“She kept pushing it!” The boy snaps right back at her and Lisa is almost immediately reminded of the old married couple sitting not ten feet away.

“It’s alright,” She says, laughing a little. “I realize it is a bit of an odd surname. It’s my husband’s you see.”

“You don’t say,” The boy says with a sort of sardonic lilt to his tone. He then turns on his heels back towards the door, “I’m feeling better, I’m going to head back-”

“No, you aren’t,” The old man says, grabbing the boy by his shoulder, his quick exit coming to a jerking halt. “You haven’t been able to eat a thing all day because your stomach hurts so much. We’re getting it looked at tonight.”

“I’d really rather find another doctor,” The boy says through gritted teeth.

Lisa frowns at that and decides that the best way to deal with the situation was to be direct.

“Young man, do you take issue with me treating you because I’m a woman?”

“Lady,” The boy says with this completely offended crack to his voice. “I could not give _ less _of a shit about you being a woman!”

Lisa frowns at him, brows furrowed. Before she can even question what his problem could be, the girl gives this aggravated sigh. She then proceeds to march up to her companion, grab the boy’s hand, and drag him away from the door.

“Which room would you like to see us in?” The girl asks sweetly, her voice just slightly gravelly while her companion keeps hissing ‘Sypha’ indignantly at her.

“To the right, if you don’t mind,” Lisa says, chuckling again as the girl drags the boy off. It’s fairly clear the boy was strong enough to break free if he really wanted to.

“I apologize for his behavior,” The old man says with his own sigh, “He’s...had a rough time as of late and it’s negatively affected his attitude. He means well, far more than he would like to admit at the moment.”

“I understand,” Lisa says. “Might I have a name?”

“Aramis, and I’ll leave the children to introduce themselves,” The old man says. “Thank you for seeing them so late.”

“It’s no trouble,” Lisa says.”Might I ask what your relation to the children is?”

“They're both my grandchildren, though the boy was granted to me by fate rather than blood. He-”

“I’m sorry, excuse me just one moment,” Lisa says apologetically as she remembers her manners. She turns to her guests, only to find that they have already gathered their things.

“We’re all right,” Joseph assures her before she even says anything.

“You take care of those children, they need your help more than us.”

“You can stay,” Aramis says gently. “I’m about to head out myself, to find shelter for the night for my caravan. We can walk you home. There is strength in numbers against these dangerous times.”

Joseph snorts.

“Won’t do much against demons, but I love a good Speaker story. I’ll be happy to give you shelter for the night in exchange for a few. My daughter’s got her kids over.”

“That’s generous of you, thank you,” Aramis says.

“I’ll be sure to hurry and see if I can’t identify what malady afflicts the children,” Lisa says while Aramis sits across from the old couple.

Lisa takes a moment to return to her wash bin, fetching her ring to place it back on her finger. It’s a gold band with a single, small, blood-red ruby in the center which gleams in the candlelight.

She smiles at it, turning around...and then paused with a thoughtful look on her face. She searches her memory, trying to remember when she had mentioned her husband before realizing-

“How did he know to call me Mrs.?”

Curious, she cautiously approaches the children’s room. Glancing to her elderly guests to find them deep in conversation, she silently leans towards the door to press an ear to it.

Almost immediately she hears barely contained whispers.

“You can’t be serious!”

“Why not?” The girl asks innocently. “If she really is who you say she is, then she’s literally the best person to find out what’s wrong with us.”

“She’s Dracula’s wife!” The boy hisses back at her with a slight crack in his voice. “If she finds out that I’m the last of the Belmonts-!”

Lisa has to cover her mouth to prevent herself from gasping. One of the Belmonts_ survived_?

Then it all clicks. The boy’s seeming shyness, his attempts to abscond, Aramis’s vague words about a ‘rough time’ and being his ‘grandchild by fate.’ He’s a _ Belmont _who somehow escaped the Church’s wrath and has taken up traveling with Speakers.

She feels a strange mixture of emotions. Her heart grows heavy with the thought of what this boy had suffered. There’s little doubt that his ‘negative attitude’ is likely trauma starting to rear its ugly head. It’s frankly a miracle he’s even functional, forget having a good attitude about anything. Just the thought of losing her family the way he had left her with a hallow sickening feeling as she truly cannot fathom how she would feel should it come to pass.

But in a strange way, she’s happy to find out that one even survived, as Vlad would be once she told him.

_ If _ she told him. While she’s certain Vlad would be thrilled to find out that Leon still lived on in his family, she isn’t quite certain how he might act upon those feelings. He’s taken up a habit of bringing home lost and hurt boys as of late and she would not be at all surprised if he wanted to do the same with this latest child. And if the boy were completely on his own with no family or people to rely on in sight, she’d have no issue with that. She still wouldn't approve of the kidnapping, but given the boy's odds of ending up _crucified, _she knew which she would rather have happen.

However…

She looks to Aramis, who seems to have Joseph and Maria enthralled with a story. She thinks about the clear bond that has developed between the Belmont boy and the Speaker girl. 

It’s quite apparent the boy has already found himself another family.

And she isn’t quite certain that would stop Vlad.

She can already hear his reasoning, that they were much better equipped to raise a traumatized child. That the boy could even find support and in turn give support to Isaac and Hector, _ especially _ Isaac since he too had been wronged by a member of the very church that slew the Belmonts. That, if left untreated, the boy’s inevitable PTSD could morph into self-destructive habits such as alcoholism in place of proper medication, something of which the Belmont family has a _ long _history.

All of these points she knows and agrees that it would be great for the Belmont boy to live with them. But only if he’s a willing participant. If he’s just ripped away from his new family by the very monster that his old family was supposed to kill-

Lisa doesn’t even want to contemplate what that might do to his mind. He’s already shown unbelievable strength in the face of betrayal and the loss of his family. She doesn’t want to drop the straw to break his back.

Frowning slightly for a moment, she considers how to best go about this before getting a smile.

She’ll treat him first. He’s already aware of the fact that she’s Dracula’s wife. If she treats him without any incident, that alone would at least incline him to trust her if not her husband. The Speakers may be nomads, but they wouldn’t give up certain shelter in the face of winter unless they absolutely had to. That gives her a couple of months to work on the boy and undo whatever teachings about Dracula his family had drilled into his head. Then she could see if they couldn’t set up some sort of arrangement for him to visit.

With that in mind, she smiles, backing up before tapping her knuckles on the door. The voices cut off suddenly as the girl calls, “Come in!”

She opens the door to find the children sitting on the furthest bed from the door side by side. The Belmont boy has finally removed his hood, revealing he has longish shaggy brown hair in uneven cuts, bits of it flowing into his fairly tanned face. Most striking, however, was the fresh scar right over his left eye.

Lisa gives him a smile, which just makes him narrow his eyes suspiciously at her.

“Alright,” She says, sitting down on the bed opposite them. “So what are your names?”

“I’m Sypha,” The girl offers.

The Belmont boy doesn’t answer until Sypha nudges him gently in the ribs with her elbow.

“Simon,” He finally offers, and Lisa doesn’t miss the confused look Sypha shoots him.

“Well then, what seems to be the problem?” She asks. “Let’s start with you Sypha.”

“I started coughing a couple of days ago and today it started getting really bad,” Sypha explains. “It’s getting harder to breathe and I feel like I’m getting tired easier than I should. There’s also this gunk that keeps clogging my throat and forcing me to cough.”

“Is there a slight rattling sound whenever you take a breath?”

“Sometimes, yeah,”

“I see,” Lisa says. “It sounds like you might have the beginnings of pneumonia.”

That causes both children to jerk in their seats, and she can hardly blame them. Pneumonia can very easily kill a young child.

“The good news is that it’s very early on.” She assures them, “I have medicine that’ll take care of it in a few days with much milder symptoms, however, you’ll have to stay with me for those few days as you’re going to become contagious very soon if you haven’t already.”

“I see,” Sypha says, nodding.

“And what about you, Simon?” Lisa asks, regarding Simon with a kind smile.

“I’m_ fine_. I don’t…”

“His stomach’s been hurting all day,” Sypha cuts him off. Lisa tries not to laugh at the dirty look Simon gives her for it. “He hasn’t been able to eat anything because swallowing anything down hurts and makes him sick.”

Lisa doesn’t let it show on her face, but she starts getting a bad feeling.

“And this pain, how would you describe it? Dull like poking at a bruise or sharp like a cut?”

“Sharp,” Simon finally provides, with a begrudging huff.

“And is it your entire stomach or just in one particular spot?”

“It started right at the center at first,” Simon says, gesturing to where his navel would be. “But it’s moved to more over here and it’s gotten worse,”

He gingerly taps the right side of his stomach.

“What do you think it is, doc?”

“Stomach flu, I expect,” Lisa lies smoothly. “I also have medication for that, but you’ll have to stay here a few days as well or you’ll risk spreading it throughout the rest of your Speaker group,”

“Great,” The boy grouses. 

“If you’ll excuse me for just one moment, I need to tell your grandfather about your treatment,” Lisa says as she stands up, heading to the door. “I will be right back.”

It isn’t until she lets the door click close behind her that she lets her fear show on her face.

The boy almost certainly has_ appendicitis_. The pain is coming from his inflamed appendix; it’s the first warning sign that it has become infected and is well on its way to dying. If it isn’t removed within a day or two, it’s going to become septic and burst. That will, in turn, cause him to develop severe sepsis which will _ kill _him.

While she knows this, she also knows she has neither the skills nor the tools to pull off such surgery without either killing the boy outright, or the wound becoming infected anyway regardless of what she does to keep everything sanitary.

She is, however, married to someone who has both the skillset and the tools.

This is going to require more finessing than she initially thought.


	3. Calm before the Storm

Lisa stands there, for a moment, just outside the children’s room as hushed whispers muffled by the door slip through. Her mind races as she considers what to do. 

This isn’t something antibiotics or medicine disguised as herbal tea can solve. This isn’t something his body can just tough out. This isn’t even something she can just let nature run its natural course. Simon_ needs _an appendectomy and he needs it_ tonight_, if not within the next hour or so. 

Moreover, Vlad needs to be the one to perform the appendectomy. While Lisa had been interested in learning surgery upon discovering its existence, she had quickly discovered that it is completely infeasible outside of her husband’s homestead. The lack of a sterile environment alone makes infection practically an inevitably; that’s not even taking into account the equipment required to perform the surgery nor the kind of anesthetics required just to make sure the patient doesn’t writhe in agony the whole time. Vlad is the only one with those kinds of resources.

The solution itself is fairly simple in terms of getting the surgery done. Simon is by no means the first patient of hers to require life-saving surgery. When those patients come in, she has a special tea to give them. It’s similar to poppy tea in that it puts patients to sleep while also serving as a painkiller, minus the ridiculously addictive nature of the opium. And with the use of the mirror hidden away in a compartment, she’s able to get them in and out of her husband’s castle with no one the wiser. He can even heal away the marks of the incision sites with a bit of magic, leaving no evidence whatsoever that they did anything other than sleep through the whole night.

She_ detests _the dishonesty of the system she has in place. Lisa believed in education above all else and she desperately wishes she could just explain how and why surgery works. However she’s been called a witch in enough towns to know better by now. And she’d prefer using underhanded tactics to letting someone die of something avoidable. Most people balk at the idea of being cut open like a fish and having some stranger’s hands rummage around their innards. Even the ones who could get behind the idea of the surgery itself would balk upon the realization their surgeon is a vampire, let alone Dracula.

Moreover, if she told the whole truth to_ this _particular patient, she’d be lucky if all he decided to do was jump straight out the nearest window.

No, how to help him isn’t the problem.

It’s whether or not she should tell Vlad just who he would be working on.

She flits through her options as well as their pros and cons. Not telling him would potentially be the easiest, but that’s only if he doesn’t somehow discover the boy is a Belmont on his own during the night. If he does, she can’t even consider pretending that she didn’t know already. The only thing she hates more than lying to her patients is lying directly to Vlad. And then talking Vlad down from trying to_ keep _Simon will just be all the harder.

After a moment she sighs, coming to the conclusion that there’s really no way for her to avoid an argument over this. It’s better she gets it out of the way and makes it very clear that Simon is to stay exactly where he is. Vlad will be cross with her, possibly even angry, but they’ll work things out as they always do.

The first thing is to shoo her other guests out.

Taking a steadying breath of air she bustles over to the table where the elders sit still chatting.

“I have their diagnoses,” She tells Aramis, before explaining Sypha’s pneumonia and Simon’s ‘stomach flu,’ the old man nodding gravely.

“They’ll have to remain with me for the next week or so,” She finishes. “I have a guest room for you to remain in as well if you so wish, so you aren’t trusting your grandchildren with a complete stranger.”

“Excellent,” Aramis says, letting out a small grunt of effort as he stands up. “I’ll return in the morning. Joseph and Marie have informed me their homestead is on the further end of your village and it’s inadvisable for me to venture out on my own so late at night.”

“Three things monsters will always target first, the elderly, the sick, and the children,” Grandfather Joseph says with a grave nod, standing up and leaning on his cane. “We’ll see you in a week or so, Lisa.”

“Thank you, dearie,” Grandmother Maria says kindly with a small curtsey herself.

“My caravan is only just up the street,” Aramis says pointing out the front door even as he heads towards the children’s room. “I’ll be there in just a moment, let me tell the children so they aren’t alarmed when I’m not here.”

It doesn’t take him long to say his goodbyes to the children, venturing back out into the foyer.

“Thank you so much for giving us shelter for the night,” He says to Joseph.

“Stay the whole winter if you like,” Grandmother Maria says. “This winter’s building up to be particularly nasty. I haven’t seen snows like this since I was a young girl!”

“That’s far too generous-”

“Well, we can’t promise to feed you the whole winter-”

Lisa has to keep her smile within reason as she waves them off before closing the door behind them. 

After they’re gone she sighs.

First thing’s first.

She spends the next ten minutes brewing some black tea. Morphos flowers are poppy-like in shape and are as blue as poppies are red. They also have a habit of dying any water they’re boiled in a deep cobalt color, which could raise eyebrows when served. Black tea hides the color the best and makes it more palatable for her more weary guests. 

Lisa sets two teacups on the tray, pouring them each full before setting the teapot aside. She then reaches up into the cabinets and fetches out a couple of cookies. There’s nothing special about them, they’re just some day old chocolate chip cookies that tended to make her young patients feel better.

With everything set on a long tray, she picks it up and heads to the children’s room, using her elbow to open the door.

“Would you like some help?” Sypha asks, getting up from where she’d been sitting before.

“I’ve got it, dear,” Lisa says with a smile, setting it back down on the end table in between the twin beds. “I thought you two might like a cup of tea before going to bed. I’ve added some herbs to the tea that’ll help you two sleep,”

“That isn’t poppy tea is it?” Simon suddenly asks, leaning back as he gives a weary look.

“Young man I’d sooner die than knowingly give two children opium,” Lisa scoffs. “It’s perfectly safe. Just a little medicine to help you go to sleep. It’ll even help with the pain.”

That seems to tempt Simon into picking up a cup, which says everything about how much pain he must be in. He swigs the whole cup down in one gulp, while Sypha reaches for another cup as well as a cookie. Since Simon is the one she’s most concerned with, she smiles as Sypha starts sipping down her own after taking a bite of her cookie.

“You two get settled for bed for the night,” Lisa says. “Your grandfather will return in the morning.”

“Thank you,” Sypha says, before giving Simon an expectant look.

His response is to flop in his side and rollover with his back turned to them. Sypha just rolls her eyes and takes another bite of her cookie. 

“I’m gonna take your cookie if you don’t say thank you,” She warns, voice slightly muffled as she chews. 

When Simon still doesn’t respond, she sets down her teacup to steal the other cookie meant for him.

Lisa chuckles at the girl’s antics.

“It’s alright,” She assures Sypha. “Sweet dreams, both of you,”

She closes the door behind her and heads to the back room. It’s large and spacious, being where she keeps her more strange medical equipment. Beakers and tools for medicine making, vials of blood on a rotating holder. Things that had once been so very strange to her, now worth hardly more than a glance as she bustles by.

Instead she heads straight for a desk, opening a drawer and removing its false bottom.

“Madame Mirror?”

Instantly a small group of triangular shards float up, forming together to create the shape of a long rough oval. 

“Madame Mirror, please show me my husband,” Lisa says. “I need to speak to him.”

The shards shudder slightly, their surface rippling for just a moment until she can see Vlad’s face.

“Vlad,” She says with a smile.

He smiles back at her, entire face softening for her as his mouth moves, no sound coming out in response. 

“Dear, I can’t hear a thing you’re saying. Did you forget the proper address?” Lisa asks, tilting her head with a knowing smirk.

Vlad immediately frowns, brows furrowing ever so slightly in a cross look. Then he raises his eyes almost imploringly to the ceiling before shaking his head and mouthing something.

“Why did I let you talk me into getting these mirrors? This is why I don’t like magical objects.”

“I think it’s cute!” Lisa says with a laugh. “And it’s not that much to give a little respect to something that clearly thinks for itself.”

“Do you have any idea how long it’s been since I’ve had to refer to anyone, let alone a mirror, as ‘Sir.’?” Vlad replies, slight indignation in his voice. “I’m probably older than this mirror by centuries.”

“I think it’s good for you,” Lisa declares airily. “A bit more humility would go a long way for you. Perhaps you’ll even stop acting like everyone’s superior.”

“You can only hope,” Vlad replies, both of them laughing slightly. “What brings you to contact me so soon? You’ve only been gone for a week.”

“I need your help with one of my patients,” Lisa says, more serious now. “He’s in the early stages of appendicitis.”

“Time is of the essence, then,” Vlad says, straightening up slightly. “How old is he?”

“He looks to be about the same as Adrian,”

“As he should be or as he actually is?”

“Actually is,” Lisa says, sighing. She doesn’t like the fact her ten-year-old boy is now just about to surpass her height. “I think he’s thirteen perhaps?”

“And you’re certain it’s appendicitis?”

“He matches all the symptoms. He’s had a sharp pain in his stomach all day that’s only gotten more intense as it’s moved from his navel to his right side.”

“That is almost certainly appendicitis,” Vlad says, giving a grave nod. “I’ll prep a room for surgery and gather the necessary supplies.”

“Wait,” Lisa says as he starts to turn away. “There’s something else.”

“Another patient?”

“No, same one. I found out something about him that I feel you need to know,” Lisa says, slightly bracing herself. There's no point in dragging it out, so she quickly bursts out, “I think he’s the last of the Belmonts.”

Vlad snaps his head back to her and she flinches from the quickness of it. Not from genuine fear, more a reflexive instinct of ‘heads shouldn’t move that fast.’ He stares at her, his expression unreadable for a moment.

“You’re certain?”

“I heard him say so himself,” Lisa replies. “He seems to have escaped the Church’s wrath and is now hiding out with a Speaker caravan.”

“Does he have any idea that you are my wife?”

“He does. My surname tipped him off.”

“It would. Has he made any threats?”

“No, he wanted to leave in fact. but I think his friend convinced him to stay,” Lisa explains. “I think she suspects there’s something seriously wrong with her friend and realizes he needs proper medical attention. Right now, neither of them knows that I’ve figured out his family.”

“And he comes to you with a sickness only I can solve,” Vlad says, a wryness to his voice now. He’s smiling ever so slightly as he says it, shaking his head before letting out a soft laugh. “If I were more superstitious, I’d believe it to be fate. So one of them made it out after all.”

The smile just grows more wide as her heart begins to sink. Lisa rarely sees Vlad so overtly happy with anything, especially in this soft manner. It makes her wonder slightly just how important this Leon had been to him for the thought that a member the clan dedicated to his destruction surviving brings him relief instead of dread. 

It also makes her heartache to know she’ll have to wipe it away.

“Vlad…” She says, her tone soft and apologetic. “We can’t keep him.”

The smile does disappear, but it’s not in anger, or upset. His brows furrow at her in confusion.

“...I wasn’t about to suggest we should.”

“Wait, you weren’t?” Lisa exclaims before she can help herself.

“Well, does he not like the Speakers he travels with?”

“N-No, not at all! In fact, he seems to have a rather close bond with his friend Sypha and her grandfather.” 

“Then it’s not a good idea for me to directly interfere,” Vlad states with a simple shrug as if that's the end of it. “If he were all alone, that would be one thing. He certainly wouldn't appreciate being taken at first, but I imagine he could easily come around to the idea, if only because the alternative would be to starve on the streets alone. If he’s found himself another family however, then I might as well be the church coming to burn down his home again for all the good it would do to take him away from that.”

It’s a downright shocking amount of awareness that Lisa isn’t quite used to Vlad displaying. She loves Vlad with all her heart and soul, but the man could be incredibly tactless in how his actions can affect other people. He has an ego to match his castle, after all. That combined with his knowledge meant he often decides _for_ people what was best for them, regardless of anything contrary they might have to say about it

“As much as him living with us would be the best outcome for him mentally, he’d have to willingly come. And the odds of him doing that are not high.”

“I...yes, I agree, completely,” Lisa nods rather numbly, still in shock. “I’m just…so surprised to hear you say that.”

“Why? Did you think I would insist otherwise?”

“I-”

Why _ had _she been so certain he would?

He’s never shown an inclination for kidnapping before. Isaac and Hector had both been given the choice before he brought them home. By all means, she should have had more faith that he wouldn’t be foolish enough to suddenly become a well-intentioned child snatcher and she had no reason to believe that he would suddenly start.

But something in her had been so absolutely sure he would. Some deep gut instinct she couldn’t quite explain had been convinced that if she didn’t stop him, he’d grab the Belmont boy regardless of the harm it might inflict on him and others.

And now that he’s proven her wrong, now she’s left floundering on why she thought he would in the first place.

“I thought…” Lisa hesitates, before the words spill out without thinking. “I thought you wouldn’t want to lose the last of the Belmonts because...because of Leon.”

Vlad flinches, catching her off guard. All of the sudden, he backs away from the mirror on his end, eyes darting to the side to avoid meeting her own.

“If anything, it’s_ because _of Leon I know to leave well enough alone,” Vlad says, a strange quality to his voice Lisa can’t quite place. 

“I’m...sorry for bringing him up,” Lisa says. 

“It’s fine,” Vlad says, coming closer to the mirror with a small smile on his face. “Finding out one of his own has escaped the church’s wrath has...lifted a heaviness in my heart. Once the boy is taken care of, I think I might regale you with the more lighthearted tales of my departed friend.”

“I looked forward to it,” Lisa says, a lightness in her own heart.

“Out of curiosity, do you know the name of the Belmont who survived?”

“Simon,”

He raises an eyebrow at that.

“You mean that redheaded hooligan? He’s a bit older than thirteen or fourteen,”

“What?!” Lisa lets out an incredulous laugh. “He doesn’t have red hair.”

“Richter? No wait, Richter would have been in his twenties by now. Process of elimination means that it must be the youngest, Trevor.”

Lisa raises a suspicious eyebrow.

“I thought you said you didn’t know any of the Belmonts personally.”

“I said that I wasn’t personally attached to any of them, but no, I haven’t known any of them personally either.”

“Then how do you know all those names?” Lisa asks, eyes narrowing dangerously at her husband. 

“Oh look at the time, I should probably start preparing a room for surgery.”

“Vlad.”

“Thank you, Sir Mirror.”

“Vlad, why have you been spying on the Belmonts?!”

“They started it!” Vlad defends just before his image fades away.

“What are you, five?!” Lisa barks back, laughing even as she knows her husband can’t hear her. She shakes her head fondly before saying gently to her mirror, “Thank you, Madame Mirror.”

With seeming glee that Lisa couldn’t tell if it’s just her own imagination, the mirror gently splits apart and places itself back in its drawer. Lisa vaguely feels like she’s tucking the mirror in as she puts the false bottom on top of it before closing the drawer shut.

She only takes a few steps before she freezes in place, brows furrowing. There’s a muffled and distant sound coming from the front part of her house. She has an uncomfortable feeling as she approaches the door leading out of the backroom.

As soon as she opens it and sees deep crimson red light flooding in through the windows, that unpleasant feeling turns to dread.

Lisa races to the front window, heart pounding. Her village is a fair distance away, only the very tops of the rooves visible on the horizon, but even there she can see that the whole village is on_ fire. _ The sound of distant screams filter through her window, and she swears she can see the monstrous lumbering forms of_ night _creatures. Her hand flies to her mouth, bile rising in her throat as she sees some malformed birdlike creature fly up with the writhing form of a human person in its talons, only to drop it.

“What,” She breathes out, shaking as she backs away from her window. “What? I don’t...I don’t understand…”

This shouldn’t be possible. Vlad’s protection should have kept any creature of the night away from victimizing her village. There hadn’t been hide or hair of a demon since she started her relationship with him a little over a decade ago! Why would they start _ now _?!

She...she has to tell Vlad!

Lisa turns on her heels, marching halfway to the backroom before freezing as Grandfather Joseph’s words ring in her ears.

_ ‘Three things monsters always target, the elderly, the sick, and the _ ** _young_ ** _ .’ _

Without another thought, she turns and heads straight for the children’s room. She has to make sure some predator isn’t going to slip through their window and carry off with their tiny bodies while she isn’t looking. She’s heard horror stories of such things, of young mothers opening nursery doors to find their baby’s blood smeared on the walls. It’s never felt so real to her until now.

The tea should have put them to sleep by now. They might be a little heavy but she’ll just make sure that they’re safe with her until Vlad can come and find out what the _ Hell _has gotten into the monsters.

She doesn’t think about the carnage in her village. She can’t think of Joseph and his wife, of Aramis and his speakers. She just has to hope and pray that they are alright because she can’t do anything except hope. The only thing she can do is make sure the children in her charge are safe-

A cold breeze brushes her face as she opens the door to the children’s room. The curtains billow slightly in the wind as thick snowflakes float into the bedroom from the open window. The beds are empty.

The children are_ gone_.


	4. The Modern Lazarus

Lisa stares in open-mouthed horror, feeling as if she can’t breathe. She has this horrid mental image of the children with their necks snapped, their lifeless bodies dangling from the maws of night creatures. The last of the Belmonts and an innocent girl, fast asleep because of the tea she had given them, helpless to so much as scream. The very thought makes her want to be sick with guilt and sorrow.

But, wait. Something isn’t right.

There’s no blood.

Night creatures aren’t like vampires. They kill their prey upon catching them; they don’t bother with dragging them away alive. And when they kill their prey, they usually leave a horrorshow in their wake. Blood should be caked all over the walls, the beds torn up, but there isn’t even the barest scratch on the floor. 

Lisa slowly approaches the window, heart still pounding in her throat. 

Never had she felt such relief and incandescent rage at the same time. There are two sets of footprints in the snow, leading away from her cottage. There’s also an unpleasant mess of what looks to be blueish black liquid and half digested cookie underneath her window sill.

Sypha threw up? But why? She hadn’t said anything about nausea.

Lisa shakes her head, reminding herself to focus.

Her eyes follow the footprints, trailing over her yard, past the dirt road, and towards-

Lisa practically flies to her front door, throwing on her cloak in a single smooth movement. It billows behind her along with her hair as she practically rivals her husband’s flash step. Snow crunches underneath her feet as she follows after the children’s trail. 

“SYPHA!” She cries out. “Tr-SIMON! WHERE ARE YOU!? _ COME BACK THIS INSTANT!” _

She calls out their names, cupping her hands to her mouth to throw her voice out farther. The wind howls back at her, carrying the snarls of monsters and the screams of her neighbors with it. 

Every agonized scream makes her wonder who had been lost. The kindly pear-seller who would give her the occasional pear as thanks for treating his grandson’s fever? The young mother whose baby she helped deliver despite its own umbilical cord attempting to strangle it? The farmhand whose leg she helped set, or perhaps his sweetheart who dragged him all the way to Lisa on a makeshift stretcher?

How could this happen? They should have all been safe, her very presence should have ensured that no monster of the night would touch this village. Why are these screams of agony calling to her like some Hellish choir?!

“SYPHA LOOK OUT!”

Lisa’s head snaps towards the source as the shout is punctuated by the echoing crack of a heavy whip and the death howl of a monster. A group of trees hide the meadow and she can just barely make out two small forms surrounded by night creatures.

Without another thought she races through the trees, twigs cracking underneath her feet as she pants. 

She expects to find the children cornered and in dire need of help. What she finds stops her dead in her tracks as she stares with her jaw practically in the snow.

A malformed creature shrieks as it explodes in a blaze of fiery gore. The heavy crack of a whip rings through the air as it strikes another demon across the face. The place where the blow lands starts to glow and then swell horribly just before bursting into flaming blood and gore.

Trevor, who could not have been any older than Hector, stands his ground in the middle, expertly dodging and weaving through each attack with downright mesmerizing grace. The familiar crest of the Belmont family gleams in the firelight, visible for the whole world to see as he twists and turns around to land blow after blow.

She’s always had trouble picturing the Belmont family, or rather how any of them could pose even the smallest threat to her husband. He’s the king of vampires who has grown so old that many of the vampires’ weaknesses no longer applied to him. She knew they had to be a threat, she had seen vampires speak the name ‘Belmont’ as one might the devil’s name, as if terrified that even speaking of them would somehow summon one of their own to bring about the vampire’s doom.

Now, watching as a small thirteen-year-old boy takes down at least three other monsters in the span of five minutes, she has no trouble at all imagining how the Belmonts were considered the boogie-men of the vampire world. 

“TREVOR WATCH IT!”

A monster that looks like a malnourished wolfman hybrid with stretched limbs has lunged at Trevor, talons outstretched and prepared to rend the boy apart limb from limb. There’s a flash and then a gush of blood from its neck, a massive icicle lodges in its throat as it lets out a sickening wet gargle before crashing to the floor. 

Lisa’s head snaps towards Sypha, whose formless robes are floating around her, hands formed into odd gestures as light dances on her fingertips and once again she finds herself floored. The little girl is a magician, a true practitioner of magic. She never thought she would see any human outside of Hector and Isaac with the ability to channel this kind of power, and yet here little Sypha is, sending a cascade of icicles towards several other monsters, trapping one in a wall of ice as it tries to lunge for Trevor. 

Another icicle pierces a monster’s heart as it comes for her, the girl dodging as the body slides past her and into the tree not far from Lisa, nearly giving her a heart attack. She’s been so entranced with the two frankly astounding children that she’s clean forgotten it’s still very, very dangerous.

She is about to call out to them again, even as they finish off the last of the monsters, but something about the one next to her has her fixed.

There’s a certain dread to realizing she actually recognizes the type of monster this is. The malformed creature is precisely the type of monster that a forgemaster would make, the unnatural demons summoned forth using the souls from Hell. She knows because she has two of the only forgemasters in the world as sons. 

It’s large with black fur, its body some malformed humanoid shape with a maw like a crocodile. But it almost looks like it’s been pieced together from multiple monsters, swaths of skin covered in patchwork like stitches all over its body. It twitches unpleasantly in death, the light of its sickly green eyes starting to disappear along with its maw.

For a moment she can’t hear the monsters or the fight. She’s hearing Maria’s haunted voice describing how a patchwork demon with a glowing green maw had snapped the neck of a redheaded Belmont.

And then her husband’s words echo to her, describing Simon as a redheaded hooligan just a little bit older than Trevor.

Was the boy that Joseph and Maria had described actually the real Simon? Somehow knowing his name made his death worse, less like a tragic hero in a fairytale, and more like a child whose life had been cruelly taken. He’d been around the same age as Isaac and Hector from what Vlad had described.

Dear God, were these really the same monsters that killed Simon? But why would -

Her head snaps towards Trevor as he dispatches one of the few demons remaining. He’s the only common element, a Belmont almost by himself. Are the monsters actually the minions of some forgemaster the Belmont clan had made an enemy of? Is Trevor the reason why her village had been attacked for the first time in over a decade, despite her husband’s influence?

It seems too much for coincidence.

And the thought fills her with fury, that some evil person was slaughtering an entire village just to murder one little boy. A little boy who had already lost everything.

Another stitched monster lunges out of the bushes, bear-like and lumbering as it swipes viciously at Trevor. Lisa feels her heart stop when the blow lands, knocking Trevor clear into the air where he lands with a thud about five feet away from where he’d been before. 

To her shock he’s back on his feet in a second, whip sailing in the air not a moment later. There’s another loud, echoing CRACK as it lashes out its final strike and hits the monster in the eye while another magically formed icicle lodges itself in its other eye, soon followed by its head bursting into flames. Its body sways momentarily before crashing to the floor with a muffled thud.

By the end of it, both children are visibly tired, panting heavily as puffs of mist escape their mouths. Trevor winds up the leather whip back into its holster in a move that Lisa is half-convinced should have ended with him striking himself in the head, but somehow didn’t. 

“Alright, that takes care-”

He staggers suddenly with a pained sound, arms wrapping around his stomach.

“Trevor?”

Sypha is next to him in a moment, her voice soft even as she turns to cover her mouth with her sleeve and cough loudly into it.

“A-Are you okay?” She manages out after taking a few labored breaths.

“Yeah…” Trevor says, still wincing as he started to look a tad pale. “Fucker hit me right in the part that hurts. It’s okay, though. I’m fine. Just gotta-“ 

He grimaced before forcing himself to stand up straight.

“Just gotta walk it off.”

With a cold horror, Lisa finally remembers a rather pertinent detail about these two children. Namely that one of them has pneumonia while the other has bloody_ appendicitis _!

She opens her mouth to call their attention, except a dark form in the sky catches her eye, and she finds herself screaming, “LOOK OUT!”

The two children snap their heads towards her, not seeing the bird-like demon swooping down towards them from above until it shrieks. Lisa bolts towards them, raising her hand with her wedding ring on it as she manages to put herself between the children.

The ruby glows and her hair billows back behind her as a translucent red shield appears. The creature slams into the shield like a bird to a window and shrieks in agony. Next thing she knows, pieces of it start flying in all sorts of different directions away from her and the two children. Blood spatters all around them, drenching the just shield before it disappears, leaving behind a morbid crescent shape in its wake.

She finds herself staring in stunned, perturbed silence along with the two children, before looking down at her ring and saying thoughtfully, “So that’s how that works.”

“You mean you weren’t sure?!” Trevor exclaims incredulously.

“You two!” She barks right back, rounding on the two children. They jump as she shakes her finger at them. “What on God’s green earth were you two thinking?!”

“Wha-?” Sypha began, but Lisa doesn’t give her the chance to finish.

“You two could have died!”

“And a lot more people would have died if we hadn’t done anything!” Trevor snaps before adding snidely. “Not that _you_ give a shit.”

“Of course I care, I live here!” Lisa exclaims incredulously. “These people are my neighbors! And moreover I am also your doctor-!”

“You’re Dracula’s wife!” Trevor barks back, pointing an accusatory finger at her. "Admit it!"

“Indeed I am,” Lisa agrees. 

Trevor, in spite of his earlier demand, clearly hadn’t expected her to admit to it so readily, the boy pausing as he clearly searches for another response.

“I uh, well then why the Hell should we trust you! Dracula’s an evil bastard and the enemy of the Belmonts!” Trevor says.

“I’m afraid I must protest the evil accusation.”

“Of course you-" Trevor began, before getting a confused look. "Wait, what about the bastard part?”

“He’s my husband. I know better than most how infuriating he can be.”

That gets a small snort of laughter from both children before Trevor shakes his head and glowers at her.

“We need to go,” He says, turning to Sypha. “We have to find Gramps and make sure he’s okay along with the rest of them.”

“Oh no you don’t!” Lisa says, reaching towards them. “You’re both sick-!”

“I’m not letting you treat either of us!” Trevor snaps at her, smacking her arm away with his own. She's actually caught off guard by his strength. “What the actual fuck is stopping you from just poisoning us?!”

“That’s true of anyone,” Lisa says. “But I imagine you don’t go accusing random strangers of poisoning attempts!”

“Most people aren’t married to Vlad snake-fucking Dracula!” Trevor pipes right back. “Look, I don’t give a shit about Dracula. For all I care he can fuck off a cliff. There’s no point for me to go after him when I’ve got nothing to come back to. So, I won’t start trouble with you as long as you leave me and Sypha the fuck alone.”

“I can’t do that.” Lisa says. “You’re sick, severely sick.”

“It’s a stomach flu! Sypha’s pneumonia is serious, but now that we know what it is the Speakers can treat it!” Trevor says.

“We need to leave.” Sypha pipes up, taking Trevor’s hand in her own. He squeezes it almost unconsciously as she starts to pull him away. “The Church is bound to come and they can’t find us here.”

“They’ll just blame us for the monsters.” Trevor agrees, his voice overflowing with bitterness. 

“You don’t understand-!”

“We understand plenty!” Trevor cuts her off. “Stop pretending to be worried, you’re just trying to distract us long enough for your husband to get here!”

“Listen to me!” She snaps back, voice rising. “If you leave now you’ll be-!”

There’s a crack of a twig being stepped on, snow crunching underfoot as something approached from the trees. A tall figure looms in the shadows.

“Vlad?” Lisa calls out hopefully.

Trevor cusses before giving Sypha's shoulder a hard shove that nearly knocks her off her feet.

“Sypha, go!” 

“What?!” She barely catches herself, now glaring.

“Go, now!” Trevor says, shoving on her shoulder. She just digs her heels into the snow, straight as a board, and making it as hard as possible for him to push her away. “Go find your caravan and get the fuck out of here, I’ll distract him as much as I can but you need to _go_!”

“I’m not leaving you!” She says, looping out of his way and nearly causing him to fall flat on his stomach.

“Sypha, there’s no time to argue-!”

“I’m not leaving you here to die!”

“I’m already fucking dead, just go, for fuck’s sake-!”

The children continue their argument, their words fading into the background as Lisa squints at the slowly approaching figure. Her heart sinks as she belatedly realizes...that is not her husband. Because, while it was hard to see in the firelight and the heavy snowfall-

Her husband’s eyes don’t glow blue like that.

“Who-”

“SYPHA STOP!” Trevor's voice rings through the air without warning.

Lisa gasps as a fireball zooms past from behind her, heading straight for the man approaching them. He dodges, the flames instead igniting a tree just behind him.

“DID YOU JUST SHOOT A FIREBALL AT _ FUCKING DRACULA?!” _ Trevor’s echoing voice cracks in horror. His hands clutch at his hair while Sypha looks on without a drop of remorse. “ARE YOU _ TRYING _TO DIE?! THIS IS THE CYCLOPS ALL OVER AGAIN EXCEPT WORSE, FOR FUCK’S- wait-”

The flames from the tree light up the surrounding area, revealing who had been approaching. It isn’t Vlad, or indeed any vampire Lisa could recognize, if one at all. Instead of pale almost desaturated skin, it has this sickly green caste. Wild waist-length hair flutters in the wind, a pale golden color in the light of the tree’s fire. Half of its hair obscures its face, the bare portion marred with stitches just like the other creatures except this creature is all too human. A single iridescent pale blue eye regards them, glowing with preternatural light that could be seen even twenty feet away as they were. And yet there is something cold and dead about them, like there’s no true life behind them.

Chains clink together as he continues his slow approach, tailcoat billowing behind him in the wind.

“Stop right there!” Lisa barks out.

To her surprise, it actually follows her orders, eerie gaze fixated on her.

Her heart pounds in her throat, and she doesn’t know why. This is just some man with an unnatural skin color, unkempt hair, and stitches all over. She’s married to bloody Dracula, she’s seen things far more terrifying on a daily basis. She shouldn’t be frightened by what looks to be a normal human with slightly unusual traits.

And yet she hasn’t felt this kind of fear since that moment over a decade ago, the moment when she realized the man she was speaking to, really was a vampire.

“Identify yourself,” She demands with a lot more confidence than she felt. “I am Lisa-”

“Lisa of Lupu,” A gravelly voice cuts her off, the creature tilting his head at her. His voice sounds rough and gargled, like he’s got the worst of strep throat and every word causes him pain to speak. “Second wife of Dracula Tepes.”

_ Second _wife?

“I am the current wife of Dracula,” Lisa says, pushing the thought aside. Really she shouldn’t be so shocked to find out she wasn’t his first love. Of course there would have been others. He's well over a thousand years old after all, and you don't get that lonely and bitter as he had once been without some kind of loss. She wasn’t going to let it throw her off, however. “And who might you be?”

The creature stares at her for a long moment, almost as if he’s mulling over his answer before answering, “Thou may call me Lazarus.”

“Somehow, I doubt you know Jesus,” Lisa scoffs. “Regardless, what do you want?”

He hesitates another moment, starting to twitch unpleasantly. Lisa almost wonders if he’s having some sort of fit when he growls out, “Thou. Come with me.”

“I don’t think so,” Lisa shakes her head as she backs up, man starting to approach her again, twitching like he’s in pain.

“Thou doth not have a choice.”

He reaches for her, only for an echoing crack of a familiar whip to ring through the air. The tattered shirt he wears splits open, revealing an entirely new set of stitches that look like autopsy scars.

Lisa’s head snaps behind her, shocked to find the children still there, Trevor with his whip unfurled and sailing around his head for another strike.

“GET DOWN!”

Lisa hits the floor as another crack rings through the air, the whip striking out against the creature again.

She looks up when she hears another growl from the creature. He reaches out and catches the whip, the end of it twisting around his forearm and leaving a large welt, but that was it. There was no fire, no explosion of blood and gore. It might as well have been an ordinary whip.

“WHAT THE HELL?!” Trevor exclaims.

Light dances on Sypha’s fingers as she forms them back into odd gestures, icicles forming in the air and aiming at the creature. Except, these ones are a lot smaller than the ones before, and Lisa can see sweat forming on Sypha’s brow. 

Several of the icicles fling themselves towards the creature, only to be swatted out of the air with one arm like flies. A shard makes it through, slicing a cheek open and causing blackish tar-like blood to slowly ooze out.

Trevor seems frozen in shock, staring at the creature’s hand where he still has a grip on the whip’s fall. Lisa can see his confusion slowly turning into fear as his eyes dart up to the creature's cold stare.

“What the fuck are-HEY!”

Trevor cuts off with an indignant shout as the creature starts pulling on his whip. He plants his heels in, ending up getting dragged along several inches through the snow. The icicles fall as Sypha turns her attention to Trevor, racing up behind him before covering her hands with her sleeves and grabbing the whip to help pull back. She just gets dragged right along Trevor.

“LET _ GO _!” Trevor exclaims, sounding genuinely distressed in a way Lisa hadn’t heard before. She can't fathom why until the whip starts slipping through his fingers and she realizes-

The whip is probably the only thing Trevor has left of his family.

She gets up, intending to grab on the children’s end to help them when it slips out of Trevor’s fingers, the handle whizzing past hardly an inch from her nose with enough force to snap it right in two.

“NO!” Trevor hits the ground with a heavy thump, Sypha scrambling to get off from on top of him. He looks up in time to see the creature catch the handle in his free hand. “No that’s not-! He can’t do that!”

The creature starts to shake again, violently this time. Then with a growl he seizes the whip at the handle and the part that meets the handle and starts to pull. Leather crinkles under the stress.

“Wait what’re-” Trevor starts, only for it to register a split second later as sparks begin to fly off the unraveling leather, and then he _screams_, “NO STOP DON’T-!”

With a final echoing snap, the whip comes apart in twain; fire left its wake before almost seeming to die, becoming no more useful than an ordinary broken whip. Trevor stares in numb shock, mouth open as the creature carelessly tosses the now useless pieces to either side.

“That was...Simon’s…” Trevor says in this small voice that breaks Lisa’s heart. She thinks she can see the boy’s heart shattering behind his wide eyes just before he doubles over, shoulders shaking.

“Trev-” Sypha began, placing a hand on Trevor’s shoulder, before her head snaps towards Lisa, eyes wide in horror as she screams, “MRS. TEPES!”

Lisa turns just in time to jump back because the creature is now mere feet from her. 

“Thou, come-”

She raises her hand, the one with her ring finger, expecting it to once again come alive and tear this creature apart as it had before. Instead, he remains in one piece, fading through her shield as if it weren’t there at all.

But then he pauses, staring at her. She finds herself staring back in shock, studying what little she could see of his face. Despite the stitches marring his face, he’s actually quite handsome with these fine almost princely features and big childlike round eyes. And while the glow is off-putting, it’s a rather lovely color. Now that he’s up close, she realizes she isn’t frightened of him at all.

She’s_ upset_.

She’s upset for him and she...she isn’t sure why but it’s this strange sense of familiarity that pulls her hand forward to brush along his cheek, uneven skin underneath her palm as she says in this breathless voice.

“What have they _ done _to you?”

And now he’s staring at her, twitching slightly as life rushes into his dead eyes, a look of awe on his face as he breathes out in a barely-there whisper, “Eli-”

A column of fire erupts behind her, an unseen spell knocking the creature up into the air and away from Lisa. 

"Oh. God. KILL ME NOW." Trevor exclaims almost despairingly as Sypha stares in open-mouthed horror.

"Is...that...?" She trails off in a small, terrified voice.

"Vlad!" Lisa exclaims while Trevor grounds out, "_Dracula_."

“What,” A sinister, deep, and angry voice hisses out, magnified by magic as the flames come together into the form of her tall, dark, and menacing husband. He glowers like a hawk, surveying the scene before him until his red eyes alight upon the fallen creature rising to his feet. His eyes narrow dangerously.

“What is the meaning of this?”


	5. Pestilence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So uh warning ahead the gore's increased a bit. 
> 
> Also I swear to God I came up with this idea WAAAY before Covid 19 was a thing. Ask Nightfeathers I've been spitballing ideas at her for over a year now.
> 
> Edit: Changed the Monster's dialogue just a bit. Because apparently pseudo old English makes his dialogue a lot scarier.

“Vlad!” Relief overwhelms Lisa, her heart instantly set at ease at the sight of him. 

“What the Hell is going on?” Vlad demands, surveying the scene before him of gutted and burned monsters, the fire over the horizon, and the strange creature standing before him with eerie glowing eyes. “Why are you out here, Lisa, it’s dangerous?”

“It’s a long story that I don’t think we have the time to get into right at the moment,” Lisa replies.

A pained groan calls their attention, their heads snapping towards Trevor. He’s still curled on his knees in the snow, one arm around his stomach while Sypha tugs at his free arm.

“I should have_ known,” _Vlad says with an exasperated growl, eyes narrowing dangerously at Trevor. “Belmonts are incapable of just going down quietly.”

Trevor’s eloquent response is to silently raise a shaky hand over his head with his middle finger extended.

“Charming.”

“Fuck you.”

“Trevor, we need to go!” Sypha hisses at him, pulling at his arm again. Trevor tries to get his feet under him, but he's shaking like a leaf and drops back down into the snow again a second later.

“I can’t move!” Trevor grinds out, voice tremulous with either pain or fear, Lisa couldn't tell. “It hurts too much to move-”

“Oh no.” Lisa races over to Trevor’s side, the two children flinching. “What’s wrong; has the pain gotten worse-?”

She reaches for Trevor, only for Sypha to turn on her. Light dances at her fingertips, a cold hard look in her eyes as she directs it towards Lisa’s face. She doesn’t attack, but the silent threat is there and Lisa has no doubt she’d go through with it. This is the same little girl who had_ gutted _several monsters not ten minutes ago.

Lisa glances back behind her towards Vlad. Thankfully, he’s strangely preoccupied with the creature, seemingly locked in some sort of intense staredown with a furrowed brow. Neither of them moves and Lisa finds herself thankful for it. Vlad has a reputation for having disproportionate reactions to any threat to her safety. She has enough things dancing on her tattered nerves, she doesn’t need her husband trying to fight a twelve-year-old magician.

“Stop that,” She says sternly to Sypha. “I want to help, and it’s clearly taking a toll on you.”

The little girl is panting like she ran a marathon, sweat glistening on her forehead as her arm trembles so much she's having trouble keeping her magic aimed towards Lisa's face. She’s clearly spent all her energy with fighting monsters and is running on fumes that are just about ready to run out.

“You lied,” Sypha accuses, shaking her head and trying to steady herself. “You said it was a stomach flu, but this isn’t any kind of flu is it?”

“It isn’t,” Lisa confirms. “One of his organs is infected and dying, and it needs to be removed.”

“Well, fuck.” 

“Why didn’t you tell the truth?” Sypha demands, her arm starting to jitter again.

“I didn’t want to frighten Trevor. The help he needs is...something only my husband can provide.”

“Are you insane?!” Trevor demands, managing to lift his head enough to give Lisa the expected horrified look. “He’s fucking _Dracula_! He’ll kill me the first chance he gets!”

“He won’t; I swear he won’t,” Lisa desperately pleads, looking at the children in turn with an imploring look. “I know he and your family have a long-standing blood feud but it’s far more complicated than you realize. It may seem unbelievable but he does care-”

“Don’t fucking bullshit me!” Trevor spits out with so much more venom than Lisa anticipated. “He cares? He _ cares _?! He’s the entire fucking reason my family hunted the night! He-”

Trevor dry heaves, bending over and retching between desperate gasps for breath. 

“-He t-toyed with Leon, the one who started everything.” Trevor continues, voice strained. “He...forced Leon to give up being a knight...to become a hunter just to survive. Then...then when Leon’s wife Sara created V...Vampire Killer he...he fucking _ murdered _Sara so she...she couldn’t make any more…”

“Leon swore revenge for his lost love,” Sypha finishes for Trevor, putting a hand on his shoulder as she looks up at Lisa with a hard look. “But Dracula fled France, so Leon took his two children and followed him to Wallachia. It’s said that Leon died of his broken heart not long after. Then, when his eldest child Sonia was old enough, she took up the whip in her father’s stead and swore that one day her family would finish what Leon could not.”

She says it in a well-practiced tone, like she’s heard the story enough times to know it by heart.

“I’m certain that’s the story you’ve been told,” Lisa says, even as her heart sinks a little. She knows Vlad did_ something _horrible to Leon, and she’s known men to declare war for far worse reasons than the cold-blooded murder of their beloved, especially if the one responsible was supposedly their friend. It even explains why it continued long after his death, Sonia wishing to avenge her parents and raising her own children to seek that same justice. But that can't be all that happened. “And there might even be a lot of truth to it. But there’s more to the story, far more than what was clearly passed down. Vlad considered Leon a dear friend for one thing-”

“Bullshit,” Trevor actually laughs even as he sneers. “Do you really think I-I’m dumb enough to...to _ believe _that?”

“What kind of _ ‘friend’ _ murders their friend’s wife?” Sypha asks, looking just as unconvinced as her companion.

“A _ really _fucking shitty one if it is true!”

Vlad, apparently having heard the entire conversation, glances over to them with an unreadable but stern look. Both of the children freeze, bug-eyed, the magic dying as Sypha finally drops her hands instinctively. Under different circumstances, it might have made her laugh because of how much it reminded her of her boys. The reminder was a small comfort at least.

“Perhaps now is not the best time for this discussion,” Vlad says airily, his gaze slowly returning back to the creature. “Just know that my wife speaks the truth. I have no intention of harming you, Belmont.”

“I d-don’t believe you-” Trevor growls, trying to get up. He gasps, clutching at his stomach as he now violently retches, back on his knees as Sypha grips his shoulder.

“Don’t move,” Lisa says, gripping his other shoulder. “Just calm down and try to relax, you’ve put yourself through enough stress as it is. Don’t push yourself any more than necessary.”

“It hurts…” Trevor says, his voice strained in a childish whine that hurts Lisa’s heart to hear. This very same child had gotten smacked around by a bloody monster bear and gotten right back up again like it was nothing. He isn't the sort who complains about every little ache and pain.

“I know it does.” Lisa keeps her voice as gentle and soothing as she can manage, rubbing at his back in circles. “Just stay calm. We’re going to help you.”

Sypha watches this with a confused, conflicted look on her face before finally venturing out.

“What...what happens if the organ isn’t removed in time?” Her big fearful eyes show that she already suspects the answer even as she looks at Lisa.

“If left unattended, the organ in question will become septic and burst,” Vlad says, not even looking over to them as he glares down the creature. “It will essentially poison his blood, and he’ll be dead by this time tomorrow.”

Sypha’s eyes widen in horror, Trevor shaking as he manages out a pained, “_Fuck_.”

“Please,” Lisa says, her voice gentle. “Please, let us help you. Let me prove that Vlad isn’t the monster you think he is.”

Whatever Trevor was going to say, it’s cut off by a loud bitter laugh from the creature. Each drawn out ‘ha’ is dripping with sardonic venom, the creature tilting his head at them as he says a single word, “Liar.”

“I don’t think this really concerns you,” Vlad says, tone low and dangerous, drawing the creature’s gaze. “And who are you to call my wife a liar?”

The creature tilts his head again, a dead gaze falling on Vlad as the creature seemingly considers Vlad’s question.

“Do thee…”

“Hmm?”

“Do thee...not...remember me?”

“Am I supposed to?” Vlad asks, lips pulling into a sneer. “I’m afraid I don’t seem to recall your face. Clearly, you must not have left that much of an impression.”

The creature’s eyes widen and for a split second, Lisa thought she saw a flash of hurt in them. It makes her wonder for her own sanity as well, because if Vlad didn’t recognize him she almost certainly hadn’t met the creature before, and yet she still can’t shake this eerie sense of familiarity.

“We must go,” Vlad says, finally approaching her and the children. “The little Belmont doesn’t seem like he’s going to last much longer without some sort of intervention.”

Trevor makes a truly frightened sound at that, seizing up almost immediately.

“It’s going to be alright,” Lisa assures him, or at least tries to because the boy is looking at Vlad like a condemned man would his noose. “I promise, it’s-”

A flash of movement catches in the corner of her eye. She turns just in time to see the creature lunge towards her husband, clearing at least two dozen feet in a single bound as if he's some sort of human cricket. 

“VLAD!” She gasps.

He turns around just in time for the creature’s fist to connect with his jaw. 

Lisa felt her heart stop as she swears she hears a sickening crack and a quiet grunt of pain from Vlad.

In a blur of movement that Lisa couldn’t even see, Vlad’s own fist returns the favor by striking the creature right in the stomach, sending him flying back before the creature lands on his feet with shocking nimbleness. 

“Vlad?” Lisa asks, the children staring at Vlad right along with her as he puts himself between them and the creature. He has a hand gingerly at his jaw, a quiet cracking noise heard for a moment as he flexes his jaw open and shut before he sighs.

“Alright. I must admit that was impressive.” Vlad pulls himself to his full imposing height, eyes narrowed dangerously at the creature. “I can’t recall the last time anyone was strong enough-”

The creature doesn’t let him finish, lunging at him again. This time Vlad dodges the attempted blow, narrowly avoiding each subsequent strike as the force blows his hair back. He doesn’t seem phased, letting the creature back him up and away from Lisa and the children.

“What the _ fuck _.” Trevor manages out, Lisa finding that she agrees wholeheartedly with his sentiment as they all watch.

After a particularly vicious blow that ended with the creature’s fist buried in a tree, Vlad declares, “My turn,”

He strikes with a serpentine precision, dangerous claws swiping at the creature’s face, only for it to back up and narrowly dodge it with just as much effortless grace as Vlad had shown. Another swipe and the creature manages to loop around behind Vlad, attempting to kick the back of Vlad’s leg.

Vlad doesn’t so much turn around as he_ snaps _around, grabbing the creature’s leg in both hands and twisting it in two with a sickening fleshy crack. 

The creature hits the floor with a pained grunt, everything below his knee now twisted in an unnatural direction. However, before their very eyes, the leg snaps itself back in place, the creature getting back up not a second later.

“Much hardier than anything else that’s come to challenge me, that’s for certain,” Vlad taunts, dodging another blurred fist. He’s smirking now, almost seeming to enjoy this fight. “You should be proud. I haven’t had anything resembling a challenge in centuries.”

This time when the creature strikes, Vlad grabs him by the wrist, yanking it up hard enough that Lisa swears she saw the creature’s feet leave the ground for a moment.

“I don’t know who or what you are-” Vlad began, sneering in the creature’s snarling face.

And then all at once, something changes. Lisa sees something click behind Vlad’s eyes just before they widen with unmistakable recognition and a look of stunned shock and perhaps even a bit of horror comes over his features.

“You-!” He began, the creature’s hand slipping out of his slackened grip, followed by a foot slamming itself into his gut. Vlad is sent flying back and hits the tree behind him, the massive thick tree letting out a great _ CRUNCH _as its trunk seems to snap in two. It creaks before falling over and obscures Vlad from sight with a loud crash.

“Vlad-!” Lisa gasps. 

The creature turns to her and jumps for her. She lets out a startled sound as she tries to get away, but he grabs her wrist in a bruising grip. 

Vlad lets out an incoherent roar of rage from where he was, the tree trunk flung from him like it weighed nothing as it crushes several other trees in its path.

“You, come with me n-”

The creature lets her go with a startled pained sound, Lisa tumbling backward to get out of his grip. 

Trevor had sprung like a cobra and jabbed a hidden knife into the meat of the creature’s calf, the only part he could reach bent over as he was. With a deep breath, Sypha summons a miniature tornado to quite literally blow the creature back away from them, and into the bushes far away.

“I don’t think I can do that again,” Sypha declares, hunched over and bracing her hands on her knees for support. 

“Neither can-” Trevor says, bringing his knife to eye level.

Lisa swears she saw what little blood he had in his face vanish as he looks at the black tar-like blood coating the blade.

“Fuck. FUCK!”

He flings the knife, the thing landing in a heap of snow several feet away as he scrambles back trying to put distance from it.

“Oh fucking God why-?!” 

“What? What’s the-”

“HOW _ DARE _YOU!” Vlad’s voice roars over them all. Lisa’s head snaps up to stare at her husband, completely caught off guard. He’s prowling over the creature as it gets up, anger rolling off him seemingly in waves. The whites of his eyes have turned blood red, iris glowing with a seething fire. His face twists into an ugly scowl, his fangs seeming overly large as a sinister aura permeates the air around him, every single inhuman trait amplified until now he looks to be every bit the monster she had so desperately argued that he wasn’t. 

For the first time since their relationship began, Vlad truly frightened her. She had only ever seen him brought to this kind of rage a handful of times, usually when one of his generals’ subordinates made a snide comment about her humanity that was much louder than they thought. Even then they had been brief; Vlad hardly needed to do more than bare his fangs with a hissing threat before the offenders were cowed into obedience. 

“How _ dare _you take his form!” Vlad snarls, seizing the creature by the front of his tattered shirt. “I don’t know what circle of hell you dragged yourself out from, but I am going to send you back-”

Another strike but it’s caught in Vlad’s free hand. Lisa feels bile in her throat as she watches him crush the creature’s hand, bones snapping and stabbing outwards to pierce through the skin. 

“-In _ pieces!” _Vlad finishes. 

Sparks of electricity flare out from the bolts on the creature’s neck as the chains from his cuffs wrap around Vlad’s arm. There’s a flash of light and a hiss of pain, Vlad staggering backwards with electrical burns all over his arm as the creature lands on his feet. With that same grace and speed, he lunges forward, slamming into Vlad and knocking him flat on his back.

The chains snake around Vlad’s neck in a flash, the creature planting a foot on his chest.

“I’ll drag thee down with me.” The creature snarls, voice echoing with magic as the electricity flares once again. its pale blue eyes shining like pinprick beacons as its sclera turns black. “I’ll rake thee over the coals of damnation and throw thee into Lucifer’s maw myself. Let the Fallen One gnaw on thy pathetic, treacherous old soul.”

As Vlad throws the creature off of him, a startled cry from Sypha drags Lisa’s attention away. Trevor had slumped over face-first into the snow without warning, curled up in a fetal position and seemingly dead to the world.

“Trevor!” She exclaims at the same time as Sypha.

“C’mon, Trevor, wake up!” Sypha shakes at his shoulder, but Trevor remains completely unresponsive, only rolling over to reveal his sheet white face. “Trevor! C’mon, Treffy, please-!”

Lisa takes over and pulls him halfway into her lap, an arm around his shoulders to support him. She doesn’t even need to touch his forehead, she feels the heat radiating off him just hovering over it. He’s breathing but it’s shallow, tiny labored breaths that aren’t enough.

“VLAD!” Lisa cries, heart pounding in her ears. “VLAD WE NEED TO LEAVE RIGHT NOW!”

“I’m afraid I’m a little-”

He ducks as a chain comes sailing over his head.

“Preoccupied at the moment!”

“TREVOR’S DOESN’T HAVE A MOMENT!” Lisa snaps at him, her frank declaration causing Sypha to gasp and then start coughing. “HIS APPENDIX HAS EITHER ALREADY BURST OR IS JUST ABOUT TO! WE DON’T HAVE ANY TIME TO-”

She trails off, realizing that Sypha’s coughing isn’t stopping, it’s getting worse. What had started out as dry irritated coughs was progressively becoming harder and wetter; each bout leaves Sypha gasping desperately before another set racks through her more violent than the last. When had Sypha gotten that pale, her cheeks and nose burning as the rest of her face becomes unbearably gaunt and sickly?

“Sypha, Sypha _ breathe _!” Lisa says. “Deep breaths, slow down and take deep breaths.”

“I-” Sypha wheezes out before being cut off by the nastiest most painful hacking cough Lisa has heard yet. She almost sounds like she's trying to cough up a piece of her lung.

And then something wet splatters on Sypha’s hands.

With dreadful slowness Sypha pulls her hands away from her mouth, still wheezing as her entire body quakes with shivers. And Lisa feels her heart stop as a copious amount of blood dribbles down Sypha’s palms and trails from her lips.

“What-” Lisa begins, not understanding, right until she sees the panic in Sypha’s eyes. “Sypha-”

“Wh-what’s wrong with me?!” Sypha manages out in a breathless, terrified voice, swaying dangerously where she stood.

“VLAD!” Lisa's voice tears through her throat as her shriek rings through the night. “SOMETHING’S WRONG, GET OVER HERE _ NOW _!”

“Am I...dying…?”

“Sypha, Sypha_ look at me,” _ Lisa orders. As soon as Sypha meets her gaze she says with as much conviction and authority as she can manage. “It’s going to be alright. Everything is going to be okay. We’re going to take care of both of you, I _ swear _.”

“I-”

Sypha’s legs buckle from underneath her, about to fall flat on her face. In a flash, she’s snatched up by Vlad, picked up as easily as if she were a doll. Lisa glances over to the creature -

And resists the temptation to vomit as she sees the creature struggling to remove himself from where he’s been impaled through the gut to a tree. She finds herself irrationally angry at Vlad for a moment, because how can he do something like that to the poor man, before shaking sense back into herself.

“What the Hell?”

Vlad’s looking over Sypha and Trevor, brow furrowed.

“I realize they’re both sick and the Little Belmont urgently so, but this is unprecedented. Especially with the Little Speaker, she seemed fine just a moment ago.”

Sypha is hardly awake, allowing herself to be cradled in Vlad’s arms. What little energy she had left has been seemingly robbed from her; she struggles to even turn her head so she can cough into Vlad’s cloak after failing to lift a hand to cover her mouth. Each rattling breath is thick with a mucus she did not have five minutes ago, Lisa is absolutely certain of that.

“I don’t know it just-” Lisa gasps as something clicks. “Does it have something to do with that creature’s blood?”

“Its blood? I don’t know why it would-”

He lifted his hand that had previously crushed the monster’s, seeing black smears all over.

And then he gets the same look of horror that Trevor had gotten.

“No, _ fuck_!”

“What is it?”

“There’s no time to explain,” Vlad says with an uncharacteristic urgency to his voice. “We have to leave right now!”

There’s a great crashing sound as the creature successfully snaps the branch impaling him in two, dragging himself off the rest. Copious amounts of black blood splatters on the ground, entrails hanging out of the hole like monstrous worms. Lisa has to cover her mouth to stop herself from puking as she sees them start slithering back into the creature’s gut.

Wherever the black blood touches, the place seems to just...rot. The snow melts away into dead grass, the tree behind him groans as its rotten trunk cracks in half, and the smell catches on the wind towards them.

This time Lisa feels bile in her throat, struggling to swallow it back down as she resists the urge to wretch. It smells of rot. It smells of an open, putrid infection. Of disease. Of bandages left too long in place. Of vomit. It's every foul, disgusting smell she's ever encountered as a doctor rolled into one putrid stench that would have brought her to her knees if she hadn't already been sitting down.

“What the-” She manages out after getting her gag reflex under control, tears in her eyes.

“SYPHA! TREVOR!” Aramis’s voice rings out over the horizon, followed by a chorus of unfamiliar voices calling out the two children’s names.

Lisa feels her heart sink into her stomach as Aramis comes into view between the trees. And she must admit, the situation looks exceptionally bad and she can’t blame him for the look of horror that overcomes his face. She’d probably have the same look if she saw Adrian with blood on his lips in the arms of a vampire.

“Grandpa…” Sypha croaks out meekly, distinctly _not_ helping with making the situation look any better.

“SYPHA!” Aramis exclaims.

“GET BACK, ALL OF YOU!” Vlad suddenly roars, making even Lisa flinch. He points to the creature, jerking and shaking like he’s having a fit. “THAT IS A DEMON OF PESTILENCE!”

The collective gasp from the Speakers shows they understand what that meant. A young dark-haired man seizes Aramis around the middle, preventing him from charging into the meadow after Sypha when she goes terribly still in Vlad’s arms.

Lisa feels magic in the air, her hair and clothes starting to levitate along with Vlad’s and the children’s. Sparks of fire begin to catch on the ground, encircling them as the magic builds up.

“Wait, Vlad-!” Lisa began.

“IF YOU VALUE YOUR LIVES, LEAVE THIS PLACE!” Vlad finishes, whites of his eyes turning red.

“Don’t run away, **_Mathias_**_._” The creature snarls, blood cascading down his chin. He’s twitching and shaking unpleasantly again, his voice now a guttural growl that has another voice overlayed with the creature’s, making it sound far more demonic and evil as it roars, **_“STAND AND FACE THY SINS THOU COWARDLY LEECH-!”_**

The creature lunges for them, but Lisa’s blinded by a flash of fire and light.

* * *

When her eyes readjust, she’s in their bedroom. The scent of fire and smoke, of monster blood and viscera, all of it suddenly vanishes and is replaced by faint perfumes and candle scents. She finds herself staring bewilderedly around, as Vlad’s already disappeared with Sypha.

“Vlad-?!” She calls out uncertainly, unable to move with Trevor still half sprawled in her lap and unconscious.

He doesn’t respond, coming back in a blur and snatching the boy up from her lap. She nearly falls over trying to catch his sleeve to get him to stay.

“_Vlad_?!” She repeats more distressed as she gets to her feet, shaking with nerves and leftover adrenaline.

“Lisa, I don’t have much time.”

Vlad suddenly appears before her, as if out of thin air, making her jump back only to be caught when his hands grip her shoulders. Now that he isn’t a blur of motion, she sees he’s changed his shirt and seems to have washed his hands. They’re still sopping wet and soapy as they soak through her dress.

“You need to take a bath right now.”

“What-?!”

“That demon’s blood was pure pestilence!” Vlad cuts her off. “It’s what caused the children’s afflictions to suddenly become critical, and if you’ve been exposed you need to wash off right now. Throw your clothes to the fireplace and scrub everything down_ twice _if you have to. I’ll check on you as soon as I can but until then_ do not leave this room_. Until we know you haven’t been infected with any disease, we can’t risk you exposing Hector or Isaac.”

Lisa finds herself nodding numbly, stumbling as Vlad disappears just as quickly as before, leaving her alone in their bedroom.

Shakily, she starts approaching the bathroom door, burning with what felt like dozens of questions and worries. Would the children be alright? What will happen from now on if they do recover? Why had her village been attacked? Just what...just what in God’s name was that creature and why even now could she still not shake this eerie sense of familiarity?

She sits down heavily at the side of the tub, listening to the rumble of the water pouring out.

“What’s going on?” She finally manages out in a soft whisper.


	6. Locked away Memories

Lisa finishes her bath and - as Vlad had instructed - tosses her clothes into the fireplace. Normally she would question such extreme measures, but Vlad wasn’t one who normally panicked the way he had earlier. Moreover, while she had no idea what a “demon of pestilence” is if it has anything to do with the Great Pestilence, Vlad had every right to be paranoid. Better safe than sorry.

It, however, makes her worry for the two children that were supposed to be in her care, now spirited away to some unknown part of the castle. Sypha had been in the earliest stages of pneumonia; she had been able to push through and fight a bloody horde of demons with very little trouble. How could she have gone from that to coughing up blood in seemingly a blink of an eye?

Something felt off about Trevor as well. He had taken a direct hit from a massive bear-like monster and yet got right back up as if nothing happened. Appendicitis was something that when it starts to go bad it goes catastrophic quickly, but she couldn’t shake how quickly that defiant boy had been brought to his knees in pain. Granted, for all she knew getting smacked around by a monster-bear is precisely what caused his appendicitis to go critical. He did mention that it had hit him in the part that hurt, which could not have been good for him.

But that creature, that_ creature-_!

She still can’t get him out of her head, even as she sits down on her bedside, dressed in a nightie. It’s like that single iridescent glowing eye is following her, mind flashing back to that brief moment some glint of life came to them. The creature had been about to say something, something important; she just feels it. She feels it deep in her bones in some inexplicable way.

Once upon a time, she would have dismissed such a feeling as merely her imagination getting the better of her. While she does try to keep a good sense, she’s far less quick to dismiss the fantastic as valid explanations. It comes with the territory of having a dhampir son, two necromancers as adoptive sons, and Dracula for a husband.

...along with a magician and a vampire hunter as patients.

Before she can think any deeper on it, the door clicks open with a slight creak as Vlad finally returns. He’s dressed in a loose shirt and pants, different from what he’d worn before, and his hair appears damp and other than looking vaguely tired, he seems fine.

“Vlad, finally!” Lisa shoots up from her seat to him. 

He just heaves an unnecessary sigh, letting her hug him tightly as he softly wraps an arm around her shoulders.

“Are you alright?” She asks as she pulls away to look up at him. “What about my patients? Are they-?”

“They’re alive.” Vlad states. “They’re not, by any stretch of the imagination, ‘okay’ but they should recover eventually. I imagine they’re both going to feel like death warmed over for the next week or so. The little Belmont’s appendix had indeed burst and he’s developed - _ thankfully mild _ \- sepsis, but thanks to that creature’s blood he’s going to have to heal the old fashioned way. _ And _ he’s going to have a scar roughly the length of his entire stomach, and that is_ not _going to be fun for him to heal from. The little Speaker is slightly better off; the main issue is that the spell I used to clear her lungs of the mucus is going to leave her chest feeling scraped raw for a few days. She can breathe, it’ll just hurt a great deal if she tries to do anything more than sit. She’s not going to be leaving her bed anytime soon, though she should recover quicker than the little Belmont.”

“That’s...well I’m glad they’re alive at least and expected to recover.”

“Yes, but we must exercise great caution with the Belmont.”

“I imagine once he’s up on his feet again he’s not going to be very happy to find himself here.”

“Well, yes, but I’m referring to the sepsis,” Vlad says, before adding. “It’s suppressed his immune system.”

“Oh, _ oh _that’s right!” Lisa says. “Trevor can’t afford to get sick with anything else-”

“As it stands even the common cold could spell certain death for him. This means no one except you or I should enter his room, not any of the boys but_ especially not _the little Speaker girl. If he catches her pneumonia there will be no ands, ifs, or buts about it; he will_ die_. Now, thankfully, because it’s mild sepsis he’ll only have a suppressed immune system for a few days. But, to be absolutely safe, he and the little Speaker should be kept separated from each other and everyone else for at least a week, more likely two to make certain she isn’t still contagious. But for the little Belmont to fully recover from his surgery, I expect they’ll be here for at least a month.”

“Oh, that’s going to go over well,” Lisa sighs, bringing a hand over her eyes as she sighs. “As if those children don’t have enough reasons to distrust us already. Speaking of the boys-”

“I’ve already informed them about our guests, well mostly. I’ve left out the fact the little Speaker is a girl out of respect for their practice of disguising their women as men. While I have no doubt that the boys wouldn’t care all that much about her being a girl-”

_ “She _might care.” Lisa agrees, smiling up at him. “That’s very considerate of you, Vlad.”

“I admit a little over a decade ago I would not have cared enough to even think of it, let alone take it into account,” Vlad replies with a smile of his own. It quickly falls away as a strange look comes over his face.

“...Vlad? What are you not saying?”

“I don’t know what you mean.” He’s avoiding her eye as he says it.

“You’re hiding something.” Lisa’s eyes narrow at him.

“Are you feeling alright?” Vlad asks. “Do you feel any different from when I last saw you? Headaches, nausea-”

“I feel exactly as scared and confused as I did an hour ago.” Lisa deadpans, pointedly crossing her arms. “What’s bothering you, Darling? Does it...does it have anything to do with that creature?” 

“What makes you think-”

“Vlad, you impaled him on a bloody tree right in front of me and two children,” Lisa says. “In the entire time I have known you, you haven’t lived up to your moniker of impaler since you cleared out the skeletons at your front door. And yet this creature’s mere existence compelled you to break that streak and possibly traumatize two children in the process.”

“I apologize for that,” Vlad says. “I never should have allowed my temper to get the best of me. I heard you trying to convince the little Belmont that I’m not the monster his family led him to believe, but I’m afraid I’ve likely made that rather difficult-”

“You’re doing it again,” Lisa says. 

“What?”

“You’re avoiding the question!” Lisa glowers at him. “Vlad, what on earth is going on with that creature that has you so alarmed?!”

“...” Vlad looks away, a vaguely uncomfortable look on his face.

“Vlad, I know there’s something strange about that creature,” Lisa says, her voice gentle. “I saw him with my own eyes. I saw how you reacted halfway through the fight. Please, just tell me what’s bothering you so much.”

He hesitates for a moment longer, before heaving a great sigh.

“I think it’s for the best if I just...show you.”

“Wait, what about the boys?”

“I’ve already put them all to bed before I came here,” Vlad replies. “Moreover, if you had been infected you would be bedridden at the moment.”

“Are you certain? I could be asymptomatic.”

“Diseases caused by pestilent demons are_ never _asymptomatic. They’re so contagious that there’s no need for it. Come.”

He gestures for her to follow as he turns to the door. She has to practically sprint to catch up with him, damn his long legs sometimes, falling into stride beside him after a moment.

The halls are quiet, save for the distant creak of settling wood, and the stray inexplicable cold breeze. Candles light themselves as they pass, the only lights to appear, which is usually an indicator of Vlad feeling particularly moody.

“What is a pestilent demon?” Lisa asks, breaking the uncomfortable silence. She’s always been rather talkative. She hates uncomfortable silences and was the sort who needs something to keep her mind focused on.

“Pestilent demon, plague demon, scourge demon, disease demon, they’re all the same thing,” Vlad says airily as they walk through the halls. “They’re demons that spread disease. In fact, I have reason to suspect that the black plague was originally started by a plague demon that had been mis-summoned. It infected fleas on certain rats and it was all downhill from there.”

“Goodness,” Lisa says. “Someone really summoned another one of those things?”

“...Perhaps…”

“Vlad? What did we just discuss?” Lisa asks, slightly irritated.

“...There is something extremely odd about this one.” Vlad admits. “Pestilent demons are classified as high demons.”

“What’s the difference between high demons and the sort Isaac and Hector can summon?”

“ What Isaac and Hector summon are more akin to, say, the peasantry. Their creatures contain the souls of the damned, former humans. Once brought into this plane they usually lose all sense of self outside of their forgemaster’s orders. High demons are fallen angels; they were never human at any point. They are infinitely more powerful and infinitely more dangerous as a result. The kind of power it takes to bring their truest forms into this plane of reality is immeasurable. Summoning them into a vessel is much easier and quicker, but the vessels rarely last very long, especially not with demons with degenerative properties.”

“But that creature didn’t appear to be degenerating,” Lisa quickly catches on. “If anything he was doing the opposite, he was healing as quickly as you do.”

“Moreover their mere presence has an aura of disease and infection. The trees and plants should have sickened and died from the merest touch- you _ and _the children should have succumbed to sickness within seconds.”

“But it was only when they came into close proximity with his blood that they started to get sick, well, sicker.”

“Which is precisely why I didn’t realize what it was until it was almost too late,” Vlad says. “Had I realized what it was, I would have snatched the whole lot of you and left that instant, not dallied with a fight.”

“He.”

“What?” Vlad pauses, nearly causing her to bump right into his back.

“You’re calling the creature an it, and I don’t like that,” Lisa says after she caught herself. She glares pointedly at him. “I don’t like it when you dehumanize people.”

“That..._ thing_, is not a person,” Vlad says. “I don’t know what exactly it is, but having a human-like shape does not make it a person.”

“He talked,” Lisa says. “He responded to you. He can clearly think for himself and I’m not comfortable with you insisting on referring to him as an it. It feels like you’re trying to un-person him.”

“It’s not human,” Vlad repeats.

“When has humanity or lack there-of made someone a non-person?”

“...now is not the time to be getting into this argument.”

Lisa opens her mouth to argue with that, but Vlad raises his hand in a ‘stop’ gesture.

“We’re getting sidetracked.”

Indeed, he was right, as much as it annoyed her. They’d been standing still for too long now and he still has something to show her.

“Alright, fine, but don’t think this discussion is over.”

“I find it admirable that you so fervently defend the personhood of someone who tried to bloody kidnap you and nearly killed two children.”

“Don’t get passive-aggressive with me, Vlad, you know damn well that is not a fight you’re going to win.”

“As if I ever win with you,” Vlad says, with a great deal more fondness this time. 

She graces him with her own smirk before they continue on their journey down a familiar hallway. The candles light themselves as they approach, putting themselves out again to preserve candle wax as they wander away. Thunder booms outside, the snowstorm has turned into a thunderstorm near the castle it appears. A flash of lightning makes her jump in her skin, though she has to wonder if it’s true lightning, or the castle casting illusions on the windows to reflect the current state of its master.

Castlevania had once been mysterious and frightening to her when she first arrived, especially when she realized that it has a mind unto itself. And, in many ways, it still very much is mysterious and frightening. Now, however, it’s her home, every bit as much as her house in Lupu. The gleaming suits of armor no longer set her nerves on edge, despite the fact she now knows they can in fact get off their podiums and move. The many paintings of strange places and people are far too familiar, even if they do sometimes change when she isn’t looking. She’s glad that the random piles of bones had been done away with though, or at least tucked away somewhere more appropriate.

She isn’t certain how long they walk in silence, if it truly takes ages or if it’s merely her nerves getting the best for her. But finally, after what seems like far too long, they arrive in front of a door. It’s a door she doesn’t recognize, despite the fact she has wandered down these halls many times.

The door itself is made of an unusual wood for the castle, a bright richly colored mulberry door that stands out like a sore thumb compared to the darkly stained oak doors surrounding it. Most notable of all, however, is the golden crest painted onto the wood. It’s dulled and chipped away by time, but it's still recognizable as the same Belmont crest that had monikered the back of Trevor’s vest.

Vlad only gazes upon it with a distant sad look before he opens the door, a loud creak shattering the silence. He stands aside to let her through into an incredibly dusty room before shutting the door behind him with another loud creak.

The room is almost startlingly different from the rest of the castle, outside of appearing to be the dumping ground for all the dust that the castle cleans up from elsewhere. If she didn’t know better, she would have sworn it was a room in a completely different castle. The furniture is all made of warm mulberry just like the door, the furnishings all a royal blue when she lifts a sheet to reveal one of the untouched lounging couches. There’s a massive four-poster bed that, while not as big as her and Vlad’s in the master bedroom, it’s far bigger than most of the other beds in the guestrooms. It sits on a moth-eaten carpet between two massive windows that would let in more sunlight into this single room than all the rest in the castle combined.

Both she and Vlad leave behind tracks in the dusty floor, though they head in opposite directions. He heads towards what appears to be some sort of leather workstation while she approaches an assortment of boxes closer to the wardrobe on the right-hand side.

Most of them have been stacked neatly, but one looked to have been chucked against the wall at some point. The crumpled box lies on its side as an assortment of toys spilled out, all covered in a layer of dust that hadn’t been touched in a very long time. Not until Lisa reaches out and picks up a particular doll.

It, like everything else in the room, is old and dusty and moth-eaten. Its fabric skin is as worn and frayed as the blue and white dress it wears, the blue ribbons on its sleeves undone and hanging from its shoulders. The thread making up its smile is half undone and both of the pale green buttons making up its eyes hanging down closer to what had once been rosy cheeks. Its yarn hair is missing several wefts, leaving it patchy and one of its hair buns is completely undone with several strings sticking out from where the pearly beads had once been. 

There’s something familiar about it. She has that strange sense of deja-vu all over again, and something about it makes her heart heavy. 

“Lisa,” Vlad’s voice snaps her out of her reverie, calling her attention to him. He’s near the leather workstation, leaning over something that’s obscured from her sight, as he lets a sheet in his other hand drop to the floor with a puff of dust. 

Lisa approaches him, setting the doll on the bed without thinking. As she comes to his shoulder, he picks up what is a large painting and sets it up on the desk. Old, very old, candles come alive as the scent of burning dust reaches her nostrils as they illuminate the painting.

“Oh, Vlad!” She gasps with surprised delight.

The painting is_ gorgeous_, on par with the family portrait he had made of them and their six-month-old Adrian.

It’s another family portrait, this time of people she didn’t quite recognize. To the left, a young man dressed in fine red robes with platinum blond hair and pale blue eyes gazes back at her with overwhelming contentment and affection. He has a smile that could charm the coldest hearts, soft-looking curls brushed playfully along his cheeks and neck with a certain shine in his eyes. In his arms, he lovingly cradles a sleeping angel of a little girl dressed in a green silk dress. She looks to be only a handful of years old, big enough that she has her legs wrapped around her father’s torso and her arms around his neck with her face smooshed into her father's shoulder. There’s no doubt she’s his child, she has the same beautiful almost fluffy pale locks as her father; green ribbons and red poppies weaved into a complicated but loose braid down her back. 

Next to him just barely reaching his shoulder is an equally beautiful young woman dressed in blue silks. She's sweet-faced with wide-set round pale green eyes that are deceptively intelligent. Rich brown locks fall down in waves down her back, half held up in twin hair buns pinned with pearls and accented with a ruby circlet at the center of her forehead. Her small mouth is quirked up in a wry almost begrudging smile like she's trying to hide the fondness she has for the viewer. In her arms is a brunette baby with the same wide-set shape eyes as her, the clear mother, but they are a matching stunning pale blue to the man that stood next to the woman.

“Vlad, why would you ever hide this away?” Lisa asks. “It’s one of your finest paintings I’ve ever seen, it-”

All at once, it clicks. There’s only one person who this could be.

“Is this-?”

“This was Leon Belmont,” Vlad confirms for her, gesturing to the fair-haired man. “The woman standing next to him was his beloved wife Sara Gandolfi, and the two children in their arms were Sonia and Gabriel. Leon was the one who declared the Belmont family’s war on the night, Sara was the creator of their greatest weapon the Morningstar, meanwhile, Sonia and Gabriel were the ones who continued Leon’s legacy.”

Lisa finds herself speechless for a moment. She knows Leon had to have been important to Vlad. He still mourned the man’s memory even centuries after his death. But it seemed that she’s only now truly realizing just how important Leon had been. This entire room didn’t belong to someone Vlad had just considered a dear friend, it had belonged to someone, no, to an entire family he had once considered his own. She hadn't imagined just how much Vlad had truly lost when Leon turned his back on him, declaring war on the night and ending his friendship with Vlad.

As incredible as it is to learn…

“What does this have to do with the creature?” Lisa asks, brows furrowed.

Vlad just silently gestures to the painting again, which makes her frown but she goes along with it, studying each person in turn. Her gaze lingers on Sara’s face the longest, something about her wry smile drawing her in for a moment. Again she has a niggling sense of familiarity before shaking her head and tearing her eyes away to Leon himself.

The sense of deja-vu doesn’t go away, but now she finds herself squinting because this time it feels a lot more tangible. Like it’s...somehow recent...

There’s a flash of lightning she's blinded with searing light, but that isn't what frightens her. What frightens her is that in the space between blinks as her eyes readjust to the dim light, Leon’s smiling face is replaced by the cold dead stare of the creature that had accosted her that very night.

Lisa gasps, the sound masked by a thunderclap as she backs away from the painting as if it might lash out at her.

“My God!” She says, a cold sense of horror washing over her like ice in her veins. Her hand shakes as she raises it to her mouth. “My _ God! _”

“It took me a moment to recognize it under the green skin, the wild hair, and all those stitches,” Vlad says, gazing at the painting with a hard look in his eye. “But once I did, I couldn’t unsee it.”

“He looks like Leon!” She finally states the obvious, too amazed to think better of it. “That creature looks just like Leon!”

“Precisely.”

“I-” Lisa can’t find the words to express her thoughts. The revelation has sent her mind reeling and she hadn't even known the man personally. She cannot even _begin_ to fathom the whirl of emotions Vlad must have felt to recognize his friend in a monster three hundred years after his death. All she can manage out is a shaky, “How...why?”

“I do not know,” Vlad replies. “Whoever is behind this must have found out about my relationship with the progenitor of the Belmonts, or at least deduced that there was more to the story. A hatred like the ones the Belmonts hold for me does not come merely from moral duty. But as for how...that much escapes me.”

“Could…” Lisa hesitates. It seems incredible. Impossible even. But she has to ask. “Could that creature...is there any possibility that creature might actually be Le-”

“No.” He says this with such biting venom that she jumps, shocked he’d ever take that tone with her. Vlad instantly regrets his words, repeating much more softly. “No. It’s...true human resurrection is impossible.”

“What do you mean? Isn’t what Isaac and Hector do technically resurrection?”

“They summon the souls of the damned from hell into monstrous forms,” Vlad says. “They rarely, if ever, remember their lives as humans, and the ones that do also remember their time in Hell and are irrevocably changed from it. To resurrect someone as they once were in life - as far as I know - is _impossible_. I know of only two instances, neither of which I can verify.”

“What are those instances?”

“Jesus Christ, and Lazarus of Nazareth.”

Lisa felt her blood go cold again.

“That creature introduced himself as Lazarus.”

“If it is some sort of higher demon it would. They love perverting what Christians or Catholics view as sacred.”

“But...he...mentioned that I was your sec-”

Something occurs to her, just then. She looks around the lovingly decorated room, reminded of her own home in Lupu all at once. Her eyes fall on the painting, the one that eerily echoes the one that sits in their bedroom. Said bedroom containing a massive bed that could fit far more than just two people.

“My...what exactly?” Vlad asks, brows furrowing at her.

“Vlad...when you say that Leon and Sara were your friends…” Lisa begins a little suspiciously before pressing on. “Is that really what they were or is that merely the technically true term you’re using as to not offend my sensibilities?”

“I’m not certain what you mean.”

“Were they...lovers?”

“I mean, yes. As adorably naive as Leon was, Sonia and Gabriel wouldn’t exactly have been born if he and Sara weren’t lovers.”

“I meant with you.” Lisa finally says.

He stares at her for a long, silent moment.

And then he has to cover his mouth as he snorts.

“No.” He says, suppressing a few chuckles. “No, they weren’t, though-”

He looks at the painting, a fond look on his face. 

“I wouldn’t have protested the idea.” He says. “And I would have had them both too if they weren’t the most_ stubbornly monogamous _couple I have ever had the misfortune of coming across.”

He says it with this completely exasperated air that has Lisa chuckling along with him as he adds, “Comes with the territory of their marriage being mutually chosen rather than arranged by their families, I suppose.”

“Oh,” Lisa says, a little embarrassed she jumped to such a ridiculous conclusion. The tale of the Belmont clan’s war on her husband was already fairytale-like as it stands, it doesn’t really need the spurned lover angle.

“What makes you ask, anyway?”

“The creature...he mentioned the fact that I’m your second wife. I thought perhaps Sara…”

“Oh,” Vlad says, his light mood immediately sobering. Lisa hates seeing how the small smile just instantly melts away into a somber frown. “I see. No. Sara was not my first wife. The woman who I first married was...was Sara’s best friend at the time; a noblewoman by the name of Elisabetha.”

Lisa opens her mouth, but Vlad cut her off with a quick, “Whose memory I am _not _ready to discuss. At least, not beyond the fact her untimely death drove me mad with grief and is largely the motivation behind my foolish actions that drove Leon to...well, I doubt I need to explain.”

There’s a pain in his voice as he admits it, gazing at Leon’s smiling face with a mournful look.

Lisa, meanwhile finds herself staring at Sara’s wry smile again, an unpleasant pit in her stomach. 

“Is...is what Trevor said true?” She asks, not entirely sure she wants the answer. “Did you really kill Sara?”

Vlad doesn’t meet her eye, instead, his eyes fall onto Sara’s side of the portrait with that same mournful look he gave Leon.

“No. I never...I was not the one who brought Sara’s life to an end, not intentionally at least.” Vlad says. His age seems to catch up to him all at once as he gazes at Sara, radiant as she oldest up her youngest babe proudly. It's like every wrinkle, every imperfection, every sign of age normally unseen is all at once there for the world to see. Suddenly he seems like the old, old man who has seen and lost far too much than anyone could ever expect to bear. “However...her blood is undeniably on my hands. My actions are what drove her to an early grave and for that Leon never forgave me, and I cannot fault him for it. I haven’t forgiven myself, and I never will. Her death will haunt me until the end of my days.”

“What happened-?” Lisa asks, but Vlad just shakes his head.

“This room has opened too many old wounds and regrets,” Vlad says. “I don’t...I don’t trust myself to recount what happened at the moment. Another day. Soon.”

Lisa wants to protest. She had been curious before; now she practically_ aches _with the desire to know more. To find out about this Elisabetha. To find out about Leon and how he and Sara came to mean so much to Vlad. To find out what caused the love so clear in Leon’s eyes to turn to such a seething hatred lasting centuries beyond his death.

Instead, she takes a deep breath and sighs.

It’s late. Vlad’s nerves are almost certainly already frayed as it stood with that...that creature and the uncanny resemblance he holds to someone Vlad had loved so dearly. Just standing in this room seemed to be an exercise of restraint for him, in the way he holds himself so stiffly. She’s tired and her own nerves just as frayed from the events of the night.

“Alright.” She says. “If you’re not ready, you’re not ready. But I do hope you’re ready soon, as I’m not the only one you owe an explanation to. _ Trevor _deserves to know the truth behind his family’s war on the night.”

“You’re right,” Vlad says. “You’re right…”

He trails off, staring into space.

“Speaking of Trevor, I think you should hang this portrait in his room,” Lisa states, calling his attention to her. At Vlad’s hesitant look she adds, “It deserves to sit somewhere someone can appreciate it, and who better than Leon and Sara’s last living descendant? It might even give you more credibility when you tell him the story.”

“...Alright.” Vlad says, giving her a small smile. “Fair enough. I’ll go hang it in his room before joining you in bed tonight. If nothing else, it’ll give him something nice to look at while he’s laying there sick and miserable.”

Lisa chuckles as he fetches the cloth, now surprisingly devoid of dust. Actually, now that she looks around, she realizes the whole place had been cleaned up while she hadn’t been looking. The sheets covering the furniture had been removed, the hardwood floor now reflecting the candlelight. Suddenly she’s struck by how uncharacteristically warm and inviting the place is, possibly in reflection of the family it had once been meant to home.

After draping the sheet over the painting and picking it up, Vlad strides with a certain purpose out of the room, a small smile still on his lips as he goes. Lisa follows him to the door, just about to leave herself when an almost imperceptible amount of movement catches the corner of her eye.

She turns back to the four-poster bed, finding that the little doll she now recognizes as Sara has a new friend. A bigger but equally tattered doll with blond hair and a single pale blue button eye is leaned up against Sara, his head resting on top of hers.

His yarn hair is wild and unkempt, partially obscuring his face and covering up his missing button eye, his yarn smile so undone it looks more like a scowl, once again reminding her of the creature.

She feels a cold chill up her spine, her odd familiarity with the long-dead Belmont starting to feel sinister somehow. Even so, she can’t help but recall that brief moment she thought she saw life in the creature’s eyes, remembering that he had just been about to say something and once again aching to know what it had been and why it felt so significant to her.

Shaking her head, deciding that she had done enough worrying for one night, Lisa instead closes the door. The candles in the room put themselves out, the only light now coming from the hallway. Lisa hesitates, a sliver of light illuminating the two dolls before the door clicks shut and she leaves them in darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a cool down chapter, but was still a lot of fun to right. Lisa's perspective is shockingly easy for me to write for some reason, she's ended up with a lot more chapters told from her perspective than I'd originally intended. The next chapter will be from Dracula's perspective and from there everyone should be getting a more even share of the spotlight.
> 
> But good news, next chapter Isaac, Hector, and Adrian finally get a chance to show up! And, not to give spoilers, but next chapter is Sypha's time to shine and it is going to be glorious.


	7. In the Hall of the Vampire King

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I lied about this chapter being from Dracula's perspective.
> 
> Instead have an extra long chapter from Hector's perspective.

Adrian was a lot like a dog, Hector discovered. Sure he might leave something he wants alone when you keep an eye on him. But the second you leave the room, he’ll snatch whatever scraps you left unattended on the table.

His - Friend? Brother? - Lord’s son seemed fascinated by the new arrivals the moment he found out about them, and Dracula forbidding him from entering either of their rooms did absolutely nothing to deter the young heir. 

It seemed like every day since the Speaker and the Belmont arrived that Adrian had gotten into trouble for trying to sneak into one or both of their rooms, only to for one of his parents to drag him away by the proverbial (though not literal) ear. 

“Adrian didn’t seem nearly this interested when I first arrived,” Hector comments to Isaac as they watch - Mother? - Lady Lisa marching Adrian away from the Speaker’s room. They were sitting in one of the many libraries that littered the castle, reading about some ancient forgemasters, namely one that had created something she named an Orobourous. Their attention was only half on their research, opting to instead watch Alucard’s antics.

“Forbidden things always hold more allure I suppose,” Isaac replies, flipping through his book absently, even as he watches a sullen-faced Adrian receiving another lecture - for the third time in half as many days - out of the corner of his eye. 

Isaac is rather handsome, with rounded features, sharp brown almost red eyes, and a skin color that reminds Hector of the bark on olive trees. He wears a black vest with gold embrodiery on the chest that look vaguely like bat wings, and otherwise not much else for embellishment upon his person. He also has a series of dots over his left eye that Hector originally thought was a tattoo until he found out they were actually scars.

Hector hasn’t found the nerve to ask Isaac how he got them. They’re too deliberately placed for the answer to be something inconsequential or innocent like an accident. And despite technically being ‘brothers’ now, they’ve only been living together for a little over half a year. Neither of them is really certain how they feel about each other, or anyone else for that matter. 

Still, he likes to think they’re getting closer. Slowly. Very slowly, because Isaac likes to keep everyone at arm’s length unless he’s the one closing the distance. But the older boy seemed to tolerate everyone a bit more every day.

And Hector's...still not certain how he feels about anyone, but he likes it here so far. There isn't a dull day in Castlevania and the arrival of the Belmont and Speaker were no exception.

“Besides," Isaac continues shrewdly, raising a single eyebrow. "I think he’s less interested in them as individuals and more interested in what Belmont might be able to tell him about his family, and why Lord Dracula reacted the way he did in October.”

Hector has to admit he’s a bit more intrigued with the Belmont too. He had actually heard of them before, the mysterious and powerful family who seemed to be the only ones capable of standing against vampire kind, in particular, how they made it their family's duty to oppose Dracula in any way they could. He thought they were merely a legend though, so far out in Greece as he was.

He also thought Dracula was merely a legend as well, but look how that turned out. As a result he was only somewhat surprised to discover that the Belmonts were real as well.

Or at least, they had been at one point.

When Hector had first come to live here, they hadn’t spoken of the infamous Belmont clan and their war upon the night very much. When the topic did come up, Dracula seemed to have nothing but an exasperated annoyance with them. He seemed to have considered them nuisances, like cats he made the mistake of feeding and now wouldn’t leave him alone. He seemed content with making snide remarks and jokes at their expense, like their apparent fondness for cats, something about them being hoarders, and about how they’d all meet a sticky end if they didn’t learn how to keep their noses out of matters. 

At the time Hector thought it had spoken to his power. When the topic came up among other vampires, they all lost their air of arrogance and showed genuine fear even discussing them. He'd overheard some of them trading stories of this or that obscenely powerful vampire that had bitten the dust because of a Belmont, always in hushed tones of awed horror.

But then the news of the Belmont clan's demise reached them.

Instead of expressing joy, or snide satisfaction, or anything of the sort, Dracula had kept a placid face, listening quietly as the general who brought him the news practically danced with joy. But as soon as the general left to inform the others, the second he was out of earshot and away from the castle, Dracula had just...exploded.

There’s no other way to describe just how suddenly Dracula had gone from sitting upon his throne quietly, to roaring profanity at the Church and everyone involved with the Belmonts’ demise. He’d nearly given Isaac a heart attack, Hector had bolted to the opposite end of the room before he realized it, and even Adrian had been thoroughly rattled. 

Dracula had to remove himself, leaving Lisa to reassure all three boys that no, he was not angry with any of them, he hadn’t intended on frightening them, and that even if he_ were _angry with them it would never be to_ this _extent. All of which Dracula confirmed after he had returned, suddenly far more somber than any of them had seen before. He’d sat them all down and quietly apologized to them for losing his temper like that and for frightening them all. He hadn’t given any explanation as to_ why _he had reacted the way he did, only that it was the Church and only the Church that was the source of his ire, not any of them. It had done a lot with soothing their nerves but had also left them with a lot of questions.

Why would he be so upset by the deaths of a family he thought of as an annoying nuisance? If anything, why had he allowed them to continue for so long? So much so that he'd been considering sending the church responsible some of his more, to quote Dracula, "fiendish" curses. Why did he care about a family who not only seemed to dedicate themselves to the hunt of his kind, but was particularly dedicated to eradicating him specifically.

Given how tight-lipped Dracula became on the matter - what scant conversation about the family had disappeared entirely from then on - they thought they’d never find out and it would just remain a mystery.

Until that fateful stormy night when Lady Lisa’s village had been attacked; when Lord Dracula had gone to fetch her only to bring the Belmont and the Speaker along with them. And when they found out that one of the two children was actually the sole survivor of the Belmont Clan, they all knew that he was going to stay. Dracula might call him a guest, but there’s little doubt in their minds that they had another sibling, possibly two depending on whether or not the Speaker decided to stay. This means they have another means of finding out the answer to Dracula's odd behavior.

And Adrian’s curiosity would be insatiable until he got that answer, it seems.

It finally comes to a head on the fourth day. They all happen to be heading downstairs for dinner, talking about something Hector would quickly forget as they all pause in their tracks, seeing Dracula leaving one of the guestrooms. 

Since Lord Dracula is currently the one in charge of the Belmont, neither Hector nor Isaac are surprised to find Adrian had disappeared in a red blur, bolting straight for the door to swing it open eagerly.

They can also see the small smirk on Dracula’s face and the lack of resistance, so they’re equally unsurprised when Adrian lets out a frustrated cry, rounding on his father with an accusatory, “NOBODY’S IN HERE!”

“Of course not,” Dracula says, smiling at his son’s annoyance. “I told you, nobody except myself is allowed in the Belmont’s room until the week is through. We’ve still got another four days, Adrian.”

Adrian scowls, folding his arms in a huff. It’s a rare instance of him actually acting like his true age, and it still catches Hector off guard at times. He looks less than a year younger than him, and for the most part, acts like it too. Hector had just about choked when he found out that Adrian was actually only ten years old.

“Mild sepsis doesn’t last longer than three days!”

“It lasts on_ average _three days,” Vlad corrects him. “It could - and I fully expect that it _ will _ \- last longer in this case and I’m going to make absolutely certain he’s well enough before letting any of you pay him visits.”

“Why do you anticipate it will take longer, Dracula?” Isaac asks as he and Hector approach. 

“I’ve been meaning to ask too, why haven’t you just...healed him?” Hector also asks. 

“Unfortunately, due to unforeseen circumstances, Belmont had been exposed to pestilent demon blood, which is why he’s in the current state he’s in. There’s discharge from the incision site that has to be cleaned regularly and I can’t just heal it over because otherwise the infection could just become trapped inside and we’d have an even deadlier problem soon enough. And now I’d like to know why you are so determined to reach Belmont as soon as possible.”

“No-” Adrian began.

“We want to know why you reacted the way you did when you found out about the Belmonts being killed,” Isaac states bluntly, earning a glower from the young heir. “Well, Adrian might be the only one actively pursuing the Belmont, but I’d still like to know why you’re bothering with him in the first place too.”

“I...probably should have seen this coming,” Dracula sighs, pinching at the bridge of his nose. “Well, if it’s the story you want I’m afraid even if Belmont weren’t deathly ill he would not be able to assist you. He has an extremely biased and condensed version of the tale.”

“It’s still more than what you’ve told us,” Adrian huffs, folding his arms as Isaac shoots him a sharp look.

Dracula just heaves another sigh, fingers rubbing at his temple as he takes a moment to think. 

“How about this,” He begins as his hand drops. “I’ll make a deal with you three. I’ve already promised Lisa that I would tell her and Belmont the truth as soon as he’s well. If you all behave and leave both Belmont_ and _the Speaker alone until the week is over, I’ll tell you the story along with them. But if I catch any of you trying to sneak into their rooms, mostly just you Adrian, then none of you get to hear the story unless Belmont decides to tell you. Which, keep in mind, this is a very personal story for both myself and the Belmont Clan alike, and he would have_ no _obligation to tell any of you, seeing as you’re all strangers to him. _ And _he’s also leaving in a month.”

“Wait, what?” Adrian jerks in surprise along with Hector and Isaac.

“He’s leaving?” Hector asks incredulously.

“Yes…?” Dracula says, raising a brow at them. “Did you think he was going to stay here permanently?”

“...Yes?”

“Why has everyone-” Dracula began in an exasperated whisper, before cutting himself off. “No, this is_ not _going to be a permanent arrangement. Have none of you wondered why of all people, a _ Speaker _child was brought along with him?”

They all share confused glances before Dracula answers for them,

“It’s because Belmont has been living with a group of Speakers for the past couple months. Just as you two have found a new family in Lisa and me, he’s found his own with his Speaker group. And unlike you two...he’s not even here by his own volition.”

They stare for a second, not sure how to respond before Adrian pipes up.

“You mean you _ kidnapped _him!?”

“Well, certainly from his perspective-”

“I don’t think that’s a matter of_ perspective_,” Hector blurts out with an incredulous laugh before he can help himself.

Isaac looks at him, mouth open like he wants to argue, but he clearly can’t come up with a counterpoint to Dracula openly admitting that Belmont didn’t come here willingly.

“It was a matter of life or death,” Dracula says, with careful patience. “He would have died if I hadn’t brought him here, but regardless, that doesn’t change the fact he was highly resistant. Which is also why I want you all to stay away from him for now. This isn’t some schoolyard bully, this child has been trained from practically the moment he could walk to kill things that are far bigger, faster, and stronger than all three -”

He hesitates a moment, regarding Alucard, before amending, “Two of you, and you Alucard,”

Adrian briefly grins at the use of his preferred name, only for it to be wiped away when Dracula finishes, “He’s been specially trained to kill creatures every bit as strong, quick and powerful as you. Right now, he’s too sick to care about where he is, but as soon as he’s well he could be very dangerous.”

“You mean he might attack us?” Adrian asks.

“If he thinks you’re trying to hurt him or stop him from leaving, he very well could,” Dracula says. “Hopefully, it won’t come to that, but until I know for certain he isn’t going to lash out like a frightened and wounded animal, I’d rather you all keep your distance.”

That, finally, seems to get through to Adrian, who nods rather solemnly.

“Alright, time for dinner you lot,” Dracula says, gesturing for them to follow him. “We can worry about our guests later when I can’t hear your stomachs grumbling.”

“Aren’t they technically prisoners?” Adrian asks far too innocently.

“Adrian!” Dracula snaps sharply at him, and Hector can’t quite muffle his snort of laughter as they walk, thinking that would be the last they’d worry about the Belmont for a while.

And he was right. It would be a little bit before they worried about Belmont again.

Because somebody else entirely was going to take up the majority of their attention for the rest of the week.

* * *

It’s late afternoon when the chaos starts.

Hector ventures down the hallway with no real goal other than to explore in mind. As winter had settled in and the sun hid itself away, Hector found himself staying inside more often than not where it’s warm and comfortable. And it’s not as if there isn’t plenty for him to explore inside an ever-changing reality shifting castle. 

Something dark flits overhead, Hector following the flight of an errant bat as it escapes into the high ceiling. He’s so focused on it, he doesn’t notice the door ahead of him creak open from the inside as a small person ventures out cautiously.

Not until he bumps right into them and nearly knocks them over, both of them letting out startled sounds.

“I’m sorr-” He began, only to blink incredulously at a girl with hair like fox fur that he didn’t recognize. She’s wearing one of the Castle’s nightgowns, an off-white dress made out of cotton with blue ribbons scattered across the many ruffles. Big blue eyes stare up at him apprehensively. “Who-?”

She backs up, eyes narrowing slightly as he suddenly pieces it together that she’s the Speaker child that came along with Belmont. 

“Wait, you’re not supposed to be outside your room yet-!” Hector began, reaching towards her. “Do you need anything? I can go get Lady Lisa or Lord Drac-”

Instantly her eyes widen, hands forming into odd gestures he doesn’t recognize and - 

Why do his feet feel freezing all of a sudden?

He looks down and cries out in shock to find everything below his knees encased in ice plastered to the ground.

“WHAT THE HELL?!” He exclaims, wobbling dangerously as the girl takes her chance to bolt down the hallway. “WAIT STOP!”

“Hector?” Adrian’s voice calls to him from behind, Hector trying to whip around but instead falling on his butt in an awkward sprawl. 

“I’M DOWN HERE!” He calls back. “HELP I CAN’T MOVE!”

Adrian comes racing down in a red blur, appearing beside Hector in an instant with Isaac not too far behind him.

“What on earth happened?” Isaac asks, staring from where Hector sat with his knees bent at an uncomfortable angle, glistening ice slowly melting into freezing water.

“The Speaker, she got out of her room!” Hector points frantically down the hallway where she’d gone. “She’s a magician!”

Isaac and Adrian blink, glancing back at each other for a moment before looking back to Hector and repeating, “_She_?”

“We have bigger problems,” Hector snaps at them. “She’s not supposed to leave her room yet!”

“Oh!” Isaac’s eyes widen. “Which way did she-”

“That way!” Hector points down the hall in the direction of the Speaker’s flight. “And can somebody help me?! I’m starting to lose the feeling in my legs!”

“I’ll go look for the Speaker,” Isaac says, racing down the hall and out of sight.

Adrian meanwhile pulls Hector to his feet again, letting him brace his hands on the heir’s shoulders for balance. A few carefully placed kicks later and the ice breaks apart, Hector freeing his now numb feet.

“Father didn’t mention anything about the Speaker being a magician.”

“I wish he had!” Hector pipes back indignantly. “I wouldn’t have been so unguarded-”

He’s cut off by an uncharacteristic yelp from Isaac, their heads snapping to the direction it came from.

“ISAAC!” Adrian disappears in another red flash, Hector awkwardly hobbling after him on half numb feet.

When they find him, Isaac’s been frozen to the wall near the entryway to a staircase, his entire torso trapped in ice with his arms plastered to his sides.

“Holy shit,” Adrian manages out with a slightly perturbed laugh. “She actually managed to get the drop on you?”

“No.” Isaac denies, but then begrudgingly admits, “I severely underestimated how far the ice could reach.”

“Hang on, I’ll get you out in a moment.”

“Please hurry,” Isaac replies. “I think I can feel the frostbite setting in.”

Hector stares at him a moment, before incredulously demanding, “Was that a joke?”

“N-No.” Isaac grinds out, and it’s only then that they notice that he’s starting to shiver violently. 

“Okay, just a moment I-”

There’s a shriek down the stairway, followed by an unfamiliar voice screaming, “GET OFF, GET OFF,_ GET OFF!” _

“Hector-!”

“On it!”

Hector bolts down the stairs where the shriek came from, soon finding himself at a landing with the girl struggling at another doorway. Something’s got a hold on the hem of her dress, a high pitched growling noise just barely audible. As she pulls back, something small and black is dragged with her revealing-

“CEZAR!” 

The little black undead pug continues growling as the girl lifts him right off the ground in her attempt to yank her nightie out of his teeth, skeletal and flesh feet kicking out as his one flesh eye glows fiercely. 

Hector’s shout catches the Speaker’s attention, and she makes a frustrated sound. In a flash, she summons a dangerously sharp icicle to her hand.

For a horrible second, he thinks she’s going to stab Cezar with it. It wouldn’t have been the first time it happened to one of his animals and the thought feels like a fist clenching his heart.

So he’s caught off guard when instead she slices through her nightie, Cezar tumbling back with a mouth full of cloth in his teeth and a muffled yelp. She lets the icicle drop, instantly turning to a puddle on the floor before she turns and bolts down the nearest staircase. Cezar howls, diving after her as Hector yells, “STOP!”

The girl makes it to another landing before she comes to a skidding halt. Somehow, Adrian and Isaac had intercepted her from the staircase below, despite having been behind Hector a moment ago. The girl turns, about to run back up the staircase only to find him and Cezar blocking her path as she backs up to the banister behind her.

In a flash, she clambers over the railing, feet in between the balusters as she looks down the twenty or thirty feet between her and the ground below. It’s only now that they can all see that she’s truly still sick, her face almost as pale as Adrian’s as sweat rolls down her forehead.

“Hey wait!” Adrian calls out. “Calm down for a second!”

“We are not trying to-” Isaac cuts off with an alarmed cry, echoed by Adrian and Hector as, without warning, the Speaker lets herself drop.

All three of them throw themselves at the railing, Hector expecting to hear a sickening splat before they even reach it. 

Instead, they hear an outraged shriek followed by Lord Dracula shouting, “JUST WHAT IN THE SEVEN HELLS ARE YOU THINKING?!”

They all reach the banister in time to see Dracula with an armful of squirming Speaker floating safely back to the ground. Hector lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, Adrian shaking slightly next to him from leftover nerves. Even the normally detached Isaac had gone pale knuckled from how hard he clutched at the banister, forcing himself to let go and relax with a slight breath.

So preoccupied with their relief that they hadn’t just witnessed someone jump to their death, they don’t notice how the Speaker flailed violently in Dracula’s grip until she screams, “LET ME GO!”

“Cease at once!” Vlad growls back at her, taking several direct kicks to his chest without even flinching. “Just what the Hell made you think you could get away with that? Wind magic would have only cushioned your fall, you could have still gotten-”

With a frustrated growl, she brings up a hand, fingers together in an odd gesture as light suddenly comes alive at the tips, aiming towards Dracula’s-

_FWOOM_!

They all stare in shock as a stream of fire engulfs Dracula’s entire head. None of them are worried for him, he’s Dracula after all, but it’s only just then that it hits them that this girl, this Speaker Magician, could have done far, _ far _worse to them if she wanted to.

“THAT’S IT!” Dracula roars, seizing the girl by the scruff of her nightie. The fire cuts off so she can instead grab at his arm as she hangs there with her legs flailing. Before she can do more than shout back, Dracula lets out a single magic laced command of, “SLEEP!”

The Speaker freezes for a split second, before all at once going limp.

“VLAD!” Lady Lisa’s offended bark causes their heads to snap in her direction, finding her standing at the doorway with her hands on her hips. “You can’t go around enthralling children!”

“I can when they nearly kill themselves and attempt to set my hair on fire!” Dracula snaps back, glowering down at her as she marches up to him with her own glare. He manages to look menacing and imperious even as he absently arranges the girl so she can sit comfortably in his arms with her head pillowed on his shoulder. 

“What is she even doing out of her room?!” Lisa demands, gesturing to the comatose girl. 

“I don’t know, I just heard a massive commotion and caught her trying to fling herself over the banister.”

“What?! What on earth compelled her to do that?!”

Suddenly they both snap their heads up towards Hector, Isaac, and Adrian where they’re all still standing crowded at the banister. All three of them go stock still for a moment as a beat of silence follows.

“I thought we had a deal.” Dracula finally says, raising an eyebrow.

All three boys blurt out indignant denials at once, each of them trying to explain what happened but ending up talking over the other two and turning their words into incomprehensible noise. Dracula just shakes his head with a small smirk, before raising his hand to silence all three of them.

“Calm down and one at a time. Decide amongst yourselves who goes first.”

“Hector.” Adrian and Isaac answer at once, Hector wondering if he should feel like he’s been thrown to the wolves.

It doesn’t take him long to explain his side of his story, Adrian and Isaac piping in with their own accounts once their parts come in. By the end of it, neither Dracula nor Lady Lisa seems angry which is a relief.

“I suppose I should have predicted this.” Dracula comments, glancing down at the still sleeping Sypha. “I knew she had a bit of magic, but I hadn’t realized it was enough to actually make her dangerous. That does explain why at least half of those monster corpses weren’t nearly as torn up or charred as the Belmont whips usually leave them.”

“We should put her back to bed.” Lady Lisa says, leaning up to brush a few hairs out of Sypha’s face. “She’s still sick.”

“Yes, and her little escapade will have aggravated her condition,” Dracula frowns at the little girl, sounding vaguely annoyed. 

“Are we in trouble?” Hector can’t help asking.

“No,” Dracula says, looking back up at them. “The deal was that none of you would try to enter their rooms. You can’t help that one of them decided to leave, and you all did the right thing trying to stop her.”

They let out relieved sighs before Adrian bends over the banister and demands, “How come you didn’t mention that she was a magician?”

“I’ll leave Lisa to explain, I have a little Speaker to put to bed.”

Lady Lisa sighs as he leaves, before waving them all down.

“Come down, I’m not going to spend the entire conversation yelling up at you three. I think that’s enough excitement for one day. Let's go have some tea.”

They all come down the stairs, passing Dracula and the Speaker as they go. Hector can’t help glancing up at Dracula’s shoulder, where the Speaker has her face half smooshed into his cape. 

She’s kind of cute, he supposes. When she isn’t going on a rampage.

* * *

Hector reconsiders his position on how cute Sypha is very quickly.

The next three days are marred by nearly a dozen escape attempts from the Speaker magician, causing chaos every single time. Dracula tried keeping her door locked a grand total of once, and then never again when they found her door burnt to cinders on the opposite wall where it had been blown off its hinges. 

It honestly starts getting funny after the third or so time she absconds out of her bed. She’s still sick so doesn’t have much steam to run on. As a result about half the time they end up finding her curled up in an armchair somewhere, dead asleep. The other half she gets caught and marched back to her room, but not before causing absolute chaos before she’s put back to bed.

Thus far she has tried and failed to set Dracula’s hair on fire multiple times, tried and succeeding in setting Adrian’s tail on fire (he made the mistake of thinking the cute wolf pup trick would work on her twice), multiple skeleton warriors had been reduced to charcoal, Isaac got a firm lecture about not summoning demons to act as guards, (she hadn’t been nearly as merciful to the guards as she had been to Cezar), Adrian discovered that he did in fact, ** _not _**have his father’s enthrallment power (there is a God after all), and Hector had been caught in ice so many times that he’s now absolutely certain of his hatred of snow and ice.

By the fourth and final day of the deal, Adrian poking his head into the library with a deadpan declaration of “Sypha got out again,” causes both Hector and Isaac to let out exasperated groans. Hector lets his head thunk to the desk beneath him, Isaac looking severely tempted to join him.

“Has she not realized the futility of her actions?” Isaac asks, pinching his eyelids together. “Why does she insist on making such a pest of herself?”

“Are we sure that _ she _isn’t the Belmont?” Hector asks.

Despite Dracula’s warnings, none of them had heard a peep from the supposedly dangerous surviving heir of the Belmont Clan. And it isn’t because the Belmont isn’t awake, they had inquired about him and Lisa claims he’s been perfectly well behaved. He doesn’t talk much, that is to say, he doesn’t talk_ at all _unless prompted, but he hasn’t done anything to trouble anyone. In fact, of all bloody things, apparently he’s taken up_ embroidery _to keep himself occupied. They all outright refused to believe it until Lisa presented them with a new kerchief with her favorite flowers sewn into them. The lilies were a little wobbly and rough, but they were still recognizable as lilies. So while a recently learned skill, he's clearly had the hobby for a bit.

Adrian is still indignant over the revelation that the supposedly terrifying boogie-man of vampires took up_ sewing _in his free time. The only one who didn’t seem surprised by the revelation was Dracula, who only casually commented, “I wondered where that crest on the back of his vest could have come from.”

Dracula also maintains that Belmont is still the more dangerous of the two and that he’s merely biding his time. This had been around the eighth or so time Sypha had escaped, and since then they’d all become convinced that he was blowing smoke about the Belmont being dangerous and volatile. The Speaker is clearly the one they should have been most concerned with.

“C’mon,” Adrian says, sounding just as aggravated with the situation as they are. “We need to go find her. Mother’s distracted with the Belmont right now.”

“You two go ahead, I’m heading back to my room,” Isaac says, closing his book with a snap before standing up. “I’m not interested in getting frozen for the fourth time in as many days.”

“I’m not interested in that either!” Hector snaps after him, only for Adrian to grab his arm.

“Come on, I’m not looking for her on my own, the Castle’s too big.”

Hector sighs but follows along. 

They soon separated, covering more ground to locate her. She’s considerably less sick now, so they can’t rely on her exhausting herself and curling up somewhere anymore. Alucard seems to be the only one who could reliably subdue the magician, so Hector hopes he would be the one to find her.

He isn’t certain how long he wandered the castle, snow pelting the windows as candles come to life in preparation for the night. It’s a little unnerving on an irrational level, despite knowing that he’s safer here than he would be anywhere else in the world. 

As he passes by a door, he hears it. Muffled, but distinct, it’s…

...someone crying?

He glances at the door, only now realizing that despite having gone down this hall many times, he doesn’t recognize it. It’s a bright reddish-orange color that stands out to the darkly stained wood of the others, and painted on it in what appears to be a fresh coat of gold is a crest that he doesn’t recognize, but it’s a highly unusual sight. Crosses aren’t exactly a common sight in the castle.

Wondering if perhaps he’s going to regret this decision, he slowly and cautiously opens the door with a slight creak.

Sure enough, he finds Sypha at the center of a room that might as well have been from another castle for how different it is. She’s sitting in a crumpled and dejected heap, her newest nightie’s skirt draped around her legs in almost a perfect circle. She takes in a hitched breath, furiously wiping at her eyes and trying to keep her sniffles quiet, even as fat tears roll down her chin.

“What’s wrong?” Hector asks before he can help himself, flinching back as Sypha snaps towards him suddenly. She glares, her eyes red and puffy from crying along with her cheeks flushed, but otherwise looking far better than she had for the past couple days. 

“Go away.” She turns her back on him, rubbing tears away on her sleeves.

Hector considers for a moment, glancing down the hall almost hoping to find somebody else to deal with her. Upon finding no one, he decides to try again.

“What’s the matter?” He asks again, more gently this time as he enters the room. “What’s got you upset?”

“You know why!” She snaps at him. 

“I don’t,” Hector insists, sitting down on the floor next to her, keeping out of arm’s reach just in case.

“Yes, you do!” Sypha barks at him, glaring at him fiercely. “You’re the ones keeping me from Trevor!”

Hector stares at her, blinking for a second, wondering who the Hell Trevor was, just before it clicks.

“You mean Belmont?” He asks. “He’s the reason you keep terrorizing the rest of us?”

“_I’m _ terrorizing _ you_?” Sypha demands incredulously. “You’re all the ones who’ve been siccing demons or undead dogs on me! Or tricking me, or-”

“You attacked me first!” Hector cuts her off, pointing at her indignantly. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you, I was asking you if you needed something and you froze my feet to the floor!”

“You were going to tell Dracula I got out!”

“Because you’re sick!” Hector exclaims.

They both make frustrated growls before mutually deciding to turn away, sitting there in silence for a long moment.

Hector really can’t recognize the castle in this room. It’s so warm compared to everywhere else, almost inviting with blue furnishings and mulberry crownings on the walls. The bed has poppies carved into the frame, poppies and forget-me-nots he realizes. Definitely not the sort of thing Dracula would have carved for himself.

Glancing back to her, he finally ventures to ask, “He’s really that important to you?”

“Of course he is!” Sypha says. “Why wouldn’t he be?”

“You can’t have known him for very long,” Hector says. “Only since October.”

“And how the Hell do you know that?” She demands, glaring at him suspiciously. It's only now that he realizes just how creepy him knowing that could come across.

“I…that was when the Belmonts were... excommunicated,” Hector says. “We all got word of it. I don’t think I’m ever going to forget Lord Dracula’s reaction when he heard.”

“I guess Dracula must have celebrated when he found out,” Sypha says, glaring at him when he actually laughs.

“That could not be farther from the truth. He ranted for something like an hour about cursing the Church and everybody else involved. I think the only reason he didn’t is that Lady Lisa stopped him.”

Sypha gets an odd look at that, brows furrowing slightly. 

“I don’t blame you if you don’t believe me,” Hector says. “Because I can’t tell you why he reacted like that. I was under the impression he thought they were pests he couldn’t rid himself of, until he just blew up without warning.”

She doesn’t say anything to that at first. Instead, she looks around thoughtfully, as if taking in where she ended up for the first time. Then she mutters in a wondering tone, “She said they used to be friends…”

“What?” Hector asks, not sure where the hell that came from.

“It’s nothing,” Sypha says, a bit too quickly. “It’s...it’s not my story to tell.”

He frowns at her a bit, wondering vaguely if she's really serious about Dracula and the Belmonts being friends once. But he also knows that 'Not my story to tell' is the Speakers' way of saying that whatever the story is, it's not one they feel they have the right to give. He's heard that phrase a few times from the Speakers that lived in Greece, and also knows that in the rare instances a Speaker refuses to tell a story, good luck trying to pry it out of them.

“How about a story that is yours to tell?” He asks instead. “My point still stands about the Belmont. You can’t have known him very long, so why are you more worried about him than yourself? I’ve known Isaac for a bit longer and I don’t think he’d be nearly as worried about me as you are about Trevor.”

Sypha stares at him for a moment, before bringing her knees up to her chest, still covered up in her satin dress as she rests her arms on her knees.

“Trevor saved me from a stone cyclops.” She states bluntly. “I heard about one that was terrorizing a seaside village and thought that I could take it on. I...I couldn’t. It was bigger than I thought it would be, much bigger and scarier looking than the stories I heard made it sound. I just froze for a second, trying to think what to do and then...then I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe. It felt like I was suffocating but I couldn’t pass out. I was...I was so scared…”

Hector knows exactly what she’s talking about and has to sit there in shock. Sypha had been turned to stone. There’s only one way she could have been changed back.

“He killed it?” Hector asks incredulously.

At Sypha’s nod all at once Dracula’s warnings about Belmont become so much more tangible and real. A stone cyclops isn’t some plodding dumb creature like the demons he and Isaac could summon, the kind that don't have rarely have thoughts for themselves. It’s exactly the kind of ‘bigger, stronger, more powerful’ creature Dracula had been talking about. 

“I see,” Hector says. “You care about him because you feel obligated to?”

“No.” She says, actually sounding offended by that. “I care about him because he’s my friend! I don’t_ have _to like him, in fact, there’s a lot I don’t like about him at all! He’s rude and a jerk and he almost never listens and he turns everything into a joke and he’s _rude_!”

“Then why do you like him?”

“Because he’s also brave and noble in his own way and he’s kinder than he lets on and he...he’s one of the only people who accepted my magic without question. Even though he still kind of aligns himself with God, he doesn’t...he’s never accused me of witchcraft or consorting with demons and he never...he’s never been scared of me. My own parents…”

She cuts off, but she doesn’t need to say anything else. At that moment it clicks with Hector and he knows _exactly_ why she feels the way she does. 

“I...I get it.” He says, much softer. “My parents...my parents didn’t accept my powers either…my powers frightened them._ I_ frightened them.”

She looks at him, seemingly surprised at that.

“It’s...why I trust Lord Dracula,” Hector continues. “I’d...rather not give any details but, I was on my own when I met him. I didn’t have anywhere to go, no one wanted me because they thought I was a servant of Hades. They feared me. He was one of the first people who didn't and still doesn’t. None of them, Isaac, Adrian, Lady Lisa, none of them are scared of me the same way as others are.”

She just stares at him for a long moment, uncertainty in her eyes.

“Look, I haven’t lived here for very long. I...I get a little bit of what you’re going through.”

“Really?” She sounds unconvinced.

“Not exactly but...I do know what it’s like being in an unfamiliar place surrounded by unfamiliar people,” Hector offers. “I just...we’re not trying to hurt you, or the Belmont. Really, we’re not. We might not be on the same side precisely, but we’re...we’re not your enemies either.”

Sypha just...sighs for a moment, knees sliding down so they lay flat on the ground. They sit there in comfortable silence for a moment while Sypha seems to reflect on his words. 

"If it helps, I know Lord Dracula only intends on keeping you two here for a month, or less than a month now," Hector says. "Until Belmont's recovered. He intends on sending you both back to your Speaker group."

"Just like that?" Sypha asks.

"What does he have to gain from forcing you both to stay here?" Hector replies. "He brought you here because, for some reason, he really doesn't want the Belmont line to die out. Yes, I realize that you and Belmont weren't exactly brought here because you want to be here, but you only have to put up with it for so long and then you can go back to...whatever you were doing before. Like nothing happened."

"..." Sypha still looks unconvinced and admittedly Hector has a hard time imagining what 'going back to normal' would be like after spending even a month in Castlevania. Still, Sypha seems to eventually accept this as they fall into another silence.

Then, after a moment, she cautiously ventures out, “So...if you haven’t lived here very long...you’re _not_ one of Dracula’s sons?”

Hector stares at her for a long, silent, incredulous moment, before glancing down to check to make sure his hand hadn’t suddenly turned pale and gaunt. Satisfied that he still had his deeply tanned olive skin, he demands, “What the Hell made you think I was Dracula’s son? That’s Adrian, the blond one who can turn into a wolf!”

“Well, I thought...I heard a story that Dracula has three wives!” Sypha says defensively. “I thought since there were three of you, that you all had different mothers and I just hadn’t met yours and...Isaac was it? I thought I hadn’t met your mothers yet! And I was wondering why you and Isaac weren't using any powers like Adrian.”

Okay.

Okay, that actually makes a lot more sense than her thinking that Lady Lisa was his mother, as much as he might wish for that to be the case. 

“I have_ never _heard that story before,” Hector says, laughing a little bit. “That has to be one of the stranger tales I’ve heard about Lord Dracula.”

“Really? I always thought it sounded the most normal,” Sypha says tilting her head. “I know a lady with three husbands so…”

Before Hector could ask her about the lady with three husbands, the door suddenly creeks open. They turn to find Dracula in the doorway, not mad but certainly just as exasperated as Hector had felt early.

“_There_ you two are,” Dracula says, venturing inside. “What on earth are you doing in _this_ room of all places?”

“I thought Trevor was in here,” Sypha says, an annoyed edge to her tone as she glowers at Dracula; as if it’s _his_ fault her friend wasn’t where she thought he was.

“Is that what you’ve been after this whole time? For Hell’s sake, if you’d said something sooner I would have told you that you just had to wait a week or two and I’d take you to go see him.”

“Lord Dracula, have you ever had three wives?” Hector can’t help but ask. Sypha’s look of horror is completely worth whatever embarrassment he might suffer. At Dracula’s questioning look, he happily throws Sypha to the wolves by pointing at her and saying, “She says you have three wives.”

“No, I said I _ heard _ a _ story _that he had three wives!” Sypha exclaims indignantly, a furious blush coloring her cheeks.

“...I do not have three wives.” Dracula says, shaking his head a bit. “I think that might be a case of some polyamorous Speakers projecting themselves onto me, because I have _ no _idea where that story comes from otherwise.”

“Supposedly it came from France.” Sypha mutters bitterly, while Hector wonders what the hell ‘polyamorous’ even meant.

Dracula suddenly stares at her, going slightly wide-eyed.

“France?” He carefully repeats. 

“...yes…”

His lips start twitching at the corners, him stubbornly maintaining an unreadable look even as his shoulders start shaking slightly.

“Nevermind. I think I know where the story comes from now.” He manages out in a slightly tremulous voice, full of mirth as he mutters out, “What I wouldn’t give to see the look on his face-”

“What?” Hector and Sypha both ask at the same time, only to get waved off.

“Another time, another time,” He says, managing to get himself under control. “For now, I think it’s high time the Speaker returns to her bed.”

“Do I have to?” Sypha asks, throwing her head back with a whine even as she gets up on her feet. “There’s nothing for me to do and I can’t _stand_ it anymore.”

“Wait, are you telling me that half of these escape attempts are a result of you being bored-?” Vlad demands incredulously, but whatever else he was going to stay is cut off by Lady Lisa's voice crying out - 

“Vlad!” 

They all turn in time to see Lisa catching herself on the doorframe, panting like she’s ran a marathon. Her hair is a mess, several strands escaping her ribbon as she stares at them with a wild fear in her eyes.

“Lisa? What-”

_ “I CAN’T FIND TREVOR!" _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter is long chapter is freaking LONG.
> 
> I almost considered splitting it in two because it was so long, but my Beta Nightfeathers convinced me it was better in one piece. And I agree, it works better as is. And as promised Hector and Isaac have finally shown up, woo-hoo! 
> 
> Next chapter is probably going to be from Trevor's point of view. After that, I'm not so sure. I have an idea of what I want to have happen next, but not so much which character should tell it. 
> 
> Still have this extra long chapter from Hector's point of view to make up for it taking so damn long to get to him, Isaac, and Adrian.


	8. Belmont meets the Forgemaster

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update: I added an illustration to this chapter

Trevor hobbles through the dark, cavernous, and downright creepy halls of Castlevania at a very slow, ginger, but deliberate pace. Blue eyes constantly dart about the place at every little sound, every little creek, every little gust of wind. Candles flicker to life ahead of him, seemingly leading him down the hall until he takes a sharp right turn down an unlit hall. 

Irritation radiates off the walls, causing Trevor to pause in the dark hallway, panting slightly as he glances around in the dark. Was that breathing he heard or was his mind playing tricks on him?

The candles light themselves up, chasing the darkness away and now he can breathe again.

“I hate this fucking place,” Trevor mumbles, mostly to make himself feel better. He winces as the stitches in his side ache and throb, bracing his hand against his stomach with a slight hiss through his teeth. “Dammit, I should have waited another day before trying this.”

He’d been wandering around aimlessly for what felt like hours, and it was starting to take a toll on him. 

“Just need to find Sypha.” He grits out. “Just need to find her. Then we can get out.”

Finding her is by far the biggest obstacle at the moment. Especially when he can feel the castle trying to fucking sabotage him, trying to shepherd him back to his room. It’s pretty blatant too, with it trying to hide the right way behind curtains or secret passageways, or just earlier with keeping certain halls unlit. Every single trick his grandfather’s journal described during his brief stint inside this death maze Dracula tried to pass for a home, it’s now trying to pull on him.

“Not to-fucking-day,” Trevor growls as he pushes off the wall to continue his deliberate pace. “C’mon Bluebird, where are you?”

He thinks he can feel her. Like a little light in a haze of dark, a spark in a cave, a tiny star in a seemingly endless void permeating through the malice of the castle. She’s here. She’s somewhere inside this castle. He just can’t quite seem to pinpoint exactly where. 

But he’ll find her.

There’s a way. There’s always a way. That’s the rule with Castlevania and places like it. If you can get in, you can get out. If it can be locked, it can be unlocked. Everything and everyone inside the castle can be reached somehow, even Dracula if you’re determined to die in the most painful way possible. It can’t just stick you down an endless corridor and call it a day, or lure you into a room and vanish the door behind you. It can lie, it can trick, it can certainly make you _ think _you’re going down the same looping hallway, but it can’t actually just magic the door away and make it so you can never find your way out.

It’s his only comfort at the moment. Because without so much as Simon’s leather whip, Trevor’s never felt more helpless, even disregarding the throbbing pain in his gut.

God, he never realized how much that thing meant to him until he saw it ripped apart. The only thing he managed to save out of the fire, and some fucking he-doesn’t-even-know-what destroys it. And worst of all now he feels like he’s had a limb chopped off. Like some essential part of him is gone, and he isn’t sure if that’s just the grief of losing his one memento of Simon talking, or if all the grown-ups talk about the whip being an extension of himself held a lot more truth than he realized.

He feels homesick. It’s a feeling he’s grown accustomed to in the past months since those few weeks before his thirteenth birthday, that gnawing aching feel of wanting to go back home where it’s safe and familiar. And it’s made all the worse with knowing that home was no longer something he can take comfort in, as the most important part of home had died screaming in the fire. 

It’s been his constant companion, his only companion for a short while until he found Sypha in the Cyclops’s den. While he, frankly, questions her sanity and her sense of self-preservation more often than he’d like to admit, she was and still is the best damn thing he’s got going for him. And if they can’t escape together, if Dracula’s strange mood changes and he decides that he doesn’t particularly want the Belmont line to continue after all, Trevor wouldn’t hesitate. If Sypha can get out, he’d be happy.

A voice calls from down the hall, causing him to freeze in place. Loud, clear, and familiar, but definitely unwanted, Dracula’s wife was calling out his name.

And the castle, fuck the stupid thing, is blatantly leading her down to him, previously unlit candles ahead of him coming to life as her shadow starts to turn the corner. 

Panicking in a way that’s irritatingly familiar, Trevor does the only thing he can think of doing to hide in an otherwise bare hallway.

He ducked into the room next to him, quietly shutting the door. Lisa’s shadow passes by underneath the gap at the bottom of the door, Trevor feeling relief wash over him for a second as he lets out a breath through his teeth.

“...Can I help you?” A new voice says, which for a second causes Trevor to snap back around with his heart in his throat.

Only to calm down, this time far more irritated than he’d been before, as he realizes the person who spoke is a completely normal human sitting at a dark-colored desk with a book spread open on it. 

..._ Relatively _ normal, actually. He can sense something from the taller dark-skinned boy, something that vaguely reminds him of Sypha but...he didn’t want to say it feels sinister, but it definitely feels dangerous. Like a cobra curled up for a nap. Sure, it’s not malicious or evil and it’s safe so long as it sleeps, but the second you wake it up…

“Sorry,” He says, deciding the best way to deal with the awkward situation is to leave. “Wrong room. Bye.”

And he quickly absconds, only pausing outside the room as something feels off about the hallway. Then he groans, letting his head hit the door behind him as he realizes it’s a different hallway, and now he doesn’t know where the fuck he is anymore.

“I hate this stupid fucking castle.” He growls through gritted teeth before pushing off the door.

“Somehow, that doesn’t surprise me.” A familiar voice says as the door creaks open again.

This time Trevor does groan as the door clicks shut behind the older boy.

“What do you want?” Trevor demands, glaring.

The newcomer regards him, silent for a moment. He’s handsome, Trevor’ll give him that. The older boy reminds him of a trader his family used to have dealings with, with skin darkened by the unforgiving sun of a far off land and eyes almost the color of amber. This kid’s eyes are different, sharper, and the color is this distinct sort of brown that hovers on the border of red.

He’s weirdly a lot more severe than the older trader had been, but Trevor isn’t sure if that’s his personality, or if he’s just cursed with what Trevor’s mother used to call ‘resting bitch-face.’ It’s a funny term she’d come up with to affectionately describe the rather mean look Trevor’s father got whenever he let his mind wander.

“From you, nothing,” The boy says, calling Trevor’s attention back to the present. “However-”

“Well then,_ leave me alone, _” Trevor snaps, not letting him finish as he strides down the hallway.

He’d hoped that would serve him well enough. He’s found that vague polite hints rarely get you what you actually want, and being blunt if nothing else was a good way of offending people into leaving you alone. 

No such luck. He gets a few feet away before he hears the other kid start to follow him, and Trevor has to resist the temptation to demand from God why he couldn’t have anything go his way.

“That was rude,” He hears the boy say reproachfully as he catches up to him, at his side but carefully out of arm’s reach with his hands behind his back.

“Yeah, and what do you want me to do about it?”

“Apologize, preferably.”

“Fuck off,” Trevor growls, actually offended. “I didn’t _ ask _you to follow me, why should I be polite?”

“You’re a guest for one thing.”

“That’s a funny way of saying ‘prisoner,’” Trevor scoffs.

“And that’s an interesting way of looking at being rescued from the brink of death,” The older boy counters with a slight hint of irritation.

“I didn’t ask for Dracula’s help.”

“Are you saying you would have rather died than accept his help?”

“I would have rather died than get dragged to this literal God-forsaken place to wait for whatever horror Dracula’s cooking up for me.”

“You really think Dracula would go through all the trouble of saving your life just to snuff it out on a whim?”

“Oh no, I think he’s going to spend months torturing me first,” Trevor says with feigned good humor. His smile is far too wide, he can feel how it aches even as he cheerfully continues. “And then when he gets bored of hearing me scream he’ll finally kill me and rid himself of the only family whoever told him to go fuck himself.”

That...was admittedly grim even for his tastes. Normally making those kinds of jokes made him feel better, but instead now he just feels more jittery and anxious. 

“I don’t think so.” The kid replies after a moment of silence, and now there’s a certain hesitancy in his words. “Dracula certainly has no love for the human race as a whole, but he doesn’t hold them with that much contempt unless they do something to earn his ire. And then there are exceptions like us.”

“‘Us?!’” Trevor’s voice cracks with incredulity, stopping in place as he gawks at the older boy for a moment. “I’m sorry, how the fuck is there an ‘us?’ There is _ no _ fucking way _ I’m _ included on whatever exclusive list of favorite humans Dracula has _ you _on.”

“How are you so certain I’m not a prisoner like you?” The boy asks. “Since you clearly have an unconventional definition of what makes one a prisoner.”

“I know what victims of vampires look like.” Trevor states. 

“Do you?”

“Yeah. You wouldn’t be allowed to wear that high collared shirt for one thing, and for another what I can see of your neck is too unchewed. Plus, most vampires don’t like it when their food talks back.”

“Interesting.” The boy says, and Trevor deliberately ignores the obvious bait to question what was so interesting. “To answer your question, while I won’t pretend to know the particulars I do have strong reason to suspect that your family, despite appearances, was included among the exceptions.” 

“Did Dracula feed you that tripe about him being friends with Leon too?” Trevor demands snidely.

He’d expected the older boy to defend the claim. Instead, the kid’s brows furrow in a decidedly confused look.

“I do not know who this Leon is.”

Trevors stares for a second, giving the kid his own confused look.

“What, he never told you about why my family made it their personal mission to be thorns in his side?”

“No, but I can say that I wouldn’t mind hearing.”

Goddammit, he’s not going to leave Trevor alone anytime soon. Trevor glares for a moment, frowning, before deciding, fuck it. He hasn’t had anyone to talk to in over a week, outside of Dracula and his wife, and if nothing else it’ll give him something to focus on other than feeling invisible eyes on the walls staring at him.

“Fine, can I get your name before I tell you?” 

“Certainly. I’m Isaac Laforeze and I’m...I suppose the most accurate way of putting it is that I’m one of Dracula’s wards.”

“I’m Trevor. If I’m going to tell you the ancient story of why my ancestors have spent centuries giving Dracula the middle finger, I’m going to do it while walking,” As he says this, he continues down the hall, hand tracing along the wall.

“You do realize you’re just getting yourself even more lost,” Isaac states, quickly catching up again before walking in step with him. 

“I’ll worry about that, thank you, do you want to hear the story or not?”

Isaac brings his hand out from behind his back to make a ‘go-ahead’ gesture.

“Alright. The story goes that Leon used to be a knight of the church. One day after taking care of some gorgon who had been kidnapping people and turning them to stone, Leon came across a vampire about to rip some poor bastard’s throat out. Not knowing that the vampire was fucking Dracula, he tries to interfere to save the guy.”

“How noble,” Isaac says with such open disdain that Trevor has to squint at him.

“Do you have a problem with that?” 

“I have a hard time believing any human would so willingly interfere. Even if he was ignorant of the vampire’s true identity, getting between a vampire and its meal means almost certain death.” Isaac says.

“You calling me a liar?” Trevor demands indignantly. “Or did you just forget that you’re talking to the last of the Belmont clan, y’know, the family famous for fighting vampires to protect complete strangers?!”

“I thought you were the sworn enemies of Dracula.”

“We are! Or, we were. When Dracula went dormant about a century ago, he kind of fell down on the priority list since he wasn’t actively going out and murdering people for looking at him funny. But we’d hunt anything that goes bump in the night, especially vampires who have a documented habit of massacring entire towns!”

“Solely for humanitarian reasons?” Isaac asks doubtfully. “Or was there a monetary gain? You had to have gotten money from somewhere.”

“We sold wine.” Trevor deadpans eyes narrowing. “We also made clothes.”

“Is that where the embroidery comes from?” Isaac asks with a strangely surprised air.

“Yeah. Those of us who weren’t allowed on hunts yet would help out with selling clothes or the winemaking. We weren’t all going out and hunting monsters all the time. We did it in shifts, one half goes and hunts while the other half stays and sells wine or clothes or whatever. As much as we might like to get paid for hunting creatures of the night, it’d be too complicated because what if someone can’t afford to pay up? Obviously we can’t just ignore the problem, and if we did things for free then people would complain about having to pay.”

“...I suppose that’s fair.” Isaac says. “Knowing that your family dedicated themselves to fighting Dracula, I hadn’t considered what they might do when not opposing him.”

“Yeah. Besides that, Leon Belmont isn’t just the one who declared war on Dracula, he’s the one who started everything. He’s the entire reason we hunt vampires at all. Before him, we didn’t exist as a clan at all. If he didn’t go in to save someone just because he could, why the fuck do we hunt vampires then?”

Isaac regards him for a long, thoughtful moment before saying.

“While I still hold my reservations, I’ll concede that I do not have a better explanation at the moment. I’ll accept it for now.”

“Gee, thanks, your highness,” Trevor growls with a roll of his eyes. “Any-fucking-way, Leon obviously got his ass kicked because he didn’t know the first thing about hunting vampires, let alone fighting Dracula. However, at the time he had one of the very first Belmont whips. It’d been gifted to him by a weapon maker named Sara Gandolfi, to help him with the gorgon who had taken Sara’s friend as one of her victims.”

“That’s an interesting coincidence.”

“Actually, it gets better,” Trevor says, grinning a bit. “Sara’s the one that Leon falls in love with and marries.”

“I’m sure he did,” Isaac says, now with a condescending air.

“Are you going to be an asshole and doubt everything I tell you?” Trevor demands, because dammit he likes this part of the story. He’s always been fond of two or more people coming together to take down an enemy they otherwise couldn’t on their own, mostly because that’s how most of his family find their spouses. “Because if you are I’ll stop.”

“Forgive me.” Isaac doesn’t sound remorseful at all, so Trevor rolls his eyes again.

“Anyway,” He continues a little more irritably. “The whip actually left a mark and Leon showed promise as a hunter. So, Dracula spared him, supposedly because he’d gotten long bored and wanted a challenge for once.”

“Like a cat with a mouse,” Isaac observes, before muttering offhandedly, “Hector would enjoy that.”

“Yep, except the cat is self-aware and intentionally a sadistic fuck,” Trevor replies with a cheerful grin.

Isaac frowns at that but doesn’t deign to comment, so Trevor continues, “It goes on for years, the whole while Leon learns to fight monsters and Sara improves her craft with every new whip she makes to help him survive.”

“Why whips out of curiosity?” Isaac cuts him off to ask.

“I don’t know. Does it really matter?”

“I’m just curious why such an impractical weapon. Precision isn’t exactly a whip’s forte.”

“Well if I had one on hand I’d show you how it works-”

“Was that a threat?”

If Trevor thought Isaac had been chilly and reserved before, this went from cold to frigid. His voice hardened to steel and now there’s a distinct feeling of danger in the air. It feels like Trevor just woke the cobra up and now it’s glaring at him, trying to decide if it should strike or not.

Very briefly Trevor considers snapping back. He didn’t mean it as a threat, but he bristled at being threatened over a misunderstanding. But his side is aching, and he needs to focus on finding a way out. He doesn’t have time or energy to spend fighting whatever it is that this guy can do.

So, for once, Trevor backs down.

“It wasn’t meant as one,” Trevor replies cooly, glaring up at Isaac to stare him right in the eye. “I meant I’d show you, not use it on you. As a general rule, I don’t like going after other humans unless they do something to deserve it. I didn’t mean to threaten you. Just because I think you’re nosy as fuck doesn’t mean I want to hurt you for it.” 

The boy’s eyes narrow at him dangerously, Trevor starting to tense, before all at once the feeling of danger passes and they both seem to relax. 

“You were saying before about Leon and his wife?” Isaac says, apparently deciding to just gloss over what had just happened. Trevor’s pretty fucking sure the older boy was debating whether or not to kill him.

“Right. Well, Sara created the Morningstar, also known as the true Vampire Killer-”

“And why did this whip get such a distinction?” Isaac interrupts again, and it’s _ really _starting to irritate Trevor even if this is actually a good question. 

“Can I get more than a sentence out?” Trevor asks before explaining. “Vampire Killer can actually fuck Dracula up in a way no other weapon can. Hurt him faster than he can heal. Even while inside this castle.”

Isaac’s expression changes minutely, eyebrows raising as his eyes widened ever so slightly. It’s minor, but it still shows he knows how significant that is.

“I’m starting to see why the generals speak of your family with so much fear,” Isaac comments with an air of understanding. 

“Good,” Trevor replies, smiling ruefully. Everyone in his family suspected it, but it is nice to hear confirmation that they did in fact scare vampires shitless. “Anyway, Dracula, realizing he fucked up and now Leon had a fair shot in their fights, then decided the best thing to do was to kill Sara so she couldn’t make anymore.”

“I suppose that makes sense,” Isaac says, with a lot less horror than Trevor would have imagined. He seems completely unperturbed by the implication that Dracula killed a woman whose only crime was trying to help her husband. Trevor decides it’s probably best not to try and argue about it. Anybody who could live with Dracula would probably have a predisposition to disregard normal human conventions like killing people for shitty reasons being a bad thing.

“And then he burned her notes-”

“What?!” Isaac incredulously cuts him off suddenly alarmed, Trevor snapping his head back to him with his own look of disbelief.

“What the fuck, burning the notes is what horrifies you?!” Trevor demands, now disregarding his earlier decision to not question Isaac’s lack of an earlier reaction. “So wait, killing a woman because she helped her husband is fine, but burning notes is too far?!”

“That doesn’t horrify me, what I cannot believe is that Dracula would ever burn someone’s notes,” Isaac clarifies. “That’s completely antithetical to him as a person.”

Trevor stares at him for a long silent moment with an openly dumbfounded expression.

“...But murdering a woman trying to keep her husband alive isn’t.”

“I don’t see why it should be.”

Trevor can feel his previously neutral opinion of the boy start to drop.

“...You have fucking issues,” Trevor growls, shaking his head in disgust.

“She was an enemy who created a weapon that could bring him harm. Why would he not kill her?” Isaac asks without a hint of remorse.

“How about the fact she never would have made the stupid thing in the first place if Dracula weren’t stalking and terrorizing her husband for a decade?!” Trevor snaps back. “If he had just left Leon alone, Sara wouldn’t have made morningstar, Leon would never have declared war on Dracula, and I wouldn’t even fucking be here!”

“And how do you know that Leon is entirely innocent? Perhaps he did something to warrant Dracula’s ire.”

“Considering Dracula burned down an entire town because a couple dozen merchants were dicks to him, I’m inclined to think whatever Leon could have done to offend Dracula did not in fact deserve a vampire stalking him.” Trevor looks down each hall in turn, checking to make sure he doesn’t run into Dracula, before heading down the hallway lit by candles. “Also, why is Dracula burning notes so unbelievable? If he’s capable of killing their creator, what stops him from trying to destroy her notes, especially when those notes can lead to the creation of more Vampire Killers?”

“Why would he destroy her notes when he could just as easily take them for himself?” Isaac reasons. “It’s not as if Leon could just break into the castle and take the notes back.”

“That’s what you think,” Trevor says slyly, taking a hard right down the middle of the hallway up to a tapestry. He pulls it to one side, revealing a hidden staircase. He quickly ascends, but just before the tapestry flutters back in place he sees the look of shock Isaac is giving him.

“How did you-?” Isaac calls up after him, a slight incredulous edge to his tone before he seemingly collects himself and regains his cool demeanor, asking much more calmly, “You’re not just wandering aimlessly. You can actually navigate the Castle.”

“Yep.”

“..._ How _?”

“Off-topic don’t you think?” Trevor dodges the question. He still hasn’t found a way to explain his gut feelings without looking crazy.

“...I suppose…” Isaac carefully drawls, suspicion in his tone. “You still haven’t answered my question.” 

“Given he’s a sadistic fuck, my guess is he did it solely as an extra fuck you to Leon.” Trevor suggests with a shrug. “Adding salt to the wound. I don’t pretend to know how Dracula’s mind works. All I know is that he couldn’t handle how badly he fucked up and tried to kill the problem the second they started posing an actual threat to him.”

“Are you implying Dracula is a coward?”

“No. I’m outright saying it.” Trevor snaps back. “Dracula wouldn’t be here in Wallachia if he weren’t a coward. He_ ran away _. Leon swore vengeance and instead of facing him head on, Dracula ran.”

“That is not at all the Dracula I know,” Isaac says, starting to sound pissed.

“Well, it’s the Dracula that_ I _know!”

“You know?” Isaac repeats with an incredulous, mocking laugh. “You never even _ met _him until last week! How can you possibly know anything about him?”

“My family’s got enough stories about the shit Dracula’s done for me to know enough!” Trevor snaps. 

“Well, the first of your stories doesn’t make any sense.”

“It makes plenty of sense. Dracula created his own monster in Leon, and when he realized it he tried and failed to make the problem go away. He killed an innocent woman, who was by no means his first or his last victim I might add, and when her husband came for revenge, he ran away instead of facing the consequences just like every single other vampire on this fucking planet. It makes perfect sense.”

“It makes sense if you don’t know a damned thing about Dracula,” Isaac snaps back at him. “If we were speaking of one of his generals, I would actually be inclined to believe you as it does sound exactly like the kind of thing they would do, but Dracula himself?!”

“Implying that he’s any better than his generals.” Trevor scoffs.

“What’s clear to me is that you do not actually know Dracula as well as you think you do.”

“Sure.** _ I_ ** don’t know Dracula.” Trevor says with a rueful grin. “Whatever helps you sleep at night. Or day. Or whatever.” 

The conversation seems to die there, Trevor instead turning his attention to the long, long staircase he’s currently climbing. It’s cold, the small non-openable windows almost radiating cold as snowflakes drift past, the only thing that could be seen in an otherwise endless black void. Candles are the only thing that light the way, offering absolutely nothing in the way of warmth.

He starts feeling empty again as his mind wanders to memories. Winter used to be his favorite time of year, because everyone traveled a lot less during the early winter months. Everyone comes home from hunts, laden with strange trinkets or with new stories, and it’s weeks where their house is loud and alive with familiar voices. They’d originally planned this Christmas to be in the Hold because Trevor had been the last of the newest generation to reach the age of thirteen. He was supposed to finally see the Hold for the first time on his birthday in October...

“What did you say about them being friends,” Isaac calls his attention again, and glad for the distraction, Trevor glances over his shoulder.

“What?”

“You mentioned something about Dracula and your ancestor having been friends.”

“Well, it’s exactly what it sounds like. Dracula and his wife tried to convince me that he and Leon used to be friends and that’s why I should trust them.”

“And you don’t believe them?”

“Because it’s bullshit,” Trevor says. “Or if it is true, then Dracula’s won the award for ‘world’s shittiest friend,’ because who the fuck murders their friend’s wife and then has the nerve to claim they still care?”

“Are you certain he actually killed her?” Isaac asks. 

“Why else would Leon declare war on Dracula?”

“Why would Dracula just start harassing Leon for no good reason like you claim?”

“Because since when has any vampire needed a reason to be sadists? You do know that they view us humans like cattle right? Actually, I take that back, because most farmers treat their cattle way fucking better than any vampire has ever treated any human who wasn’t some kind of pet favorite. Vampires are more like those twisted fucks who get off on torturing cats.”

“I resent the implication that Dracula views me as some sort of pet,” Isaac says. “And you realize those ‘twisted fucks’ as you call them are included among the people you protect?”

“Unfortunately.” Trevor sighs as he finally reaches the top of the staircase, pushing aside another tapestry. He finds himself in yet another hallway, but at least this one has windows. “As much as I’d like to just let scum like murderers or rapists die at the hand of vampires, doing so means letting a bunch of other people die who didn’t do anything to deserve it. Also, you didn’t deny the fact vampires view us like cattle.”

“Because I know better than to try. You’re absolutely right. I’ve heard Dracula say so himself that his generals do not view humans as thinking and feeling creatures despite the fact they were all human at one point.”

“So why the fuck do you defend Dracula so much?”

“Why do you vilify him so much?”

“Vilify? VILIFY?!” Trevors’ voice cracks unpleasantly with his indignation. “What the actual fuck, I’m not vilifying _ shit _you-!”

They turn the corner and Trevor’s cut off by an outraged cry. His head snaps from Isaac to down the hallway where just outside the door Dracula’s wife glowers back at him.

Without a second thought Trevor turns around and bolts, only to choke as Isaac seizes the back of his shirt, and Trevor’s legs nearly sweep out from under him.

“LET ME GO YOU-” Trevor began as Isaac physically drags him by the shirt down the hall towards Lisa. He’s briefly wondering if kicking Isaac’s leg is too far when Lisa meets them halfway down the hall.

“Thank you, Isaac,” Lisa says, before seizing hold of Trevor’s arm and whirling him around. “Trevor Belmont, what on earth are you trying to pull!? You shouldn’t be putting so much strain on your stitches yet. You’re still healing!”

“Shove off!” Trevor snaps at her, face feeling hot all of the sudden. He yanks his arm out of her hand, growling, “You’re not my-!”

“TREVOR!”

A blue and white blur zooms past Lisa and plows into Trevor, damn near knocking him flat on his ass. Flailing for a second, he instinctively wraps his arms around Sypha as she hugs him tightly.

“Oh my God Sypha!” Trevor exclaims, and for a wonderful moment all of his worries and anxieties wash away as he hugs her back just as tightly. “I’ve been looking all over for you-!”

“I’ve been trying to find you all week!” Sypha cries.

“Are you okay?”

“Me?! You looked like you died last I saw you-!”

“Well, so much for keeping them apart for another week.” A deep voice comments wryly, Trevor’s happy bubble bursting almost instantly as he remembers where they are. Sure enough, leaving the room Sypha had come out of is Dracula, quickly followed by an older white-haired boy sticking his head out of the doorway curiously.

Trevor’s grip on Sypha tightens for a moment as he hisses out between gritted teeth, “Let’s go. Now.”

Sypha nods, Trevor letting go of her to grab her hand and turning around-

Only to bump right into Isaac, who had apparently snuck up to block their way out.

“Get out of our way-!” Sypha exclaims and Trevor almost laughs as Isaac for the first time gets a genuinely alarmed look, backing up from Sypha. 

His smile slips away as clawed hands fall onto each of their shoulders.

“FUCK-”

Without thinking Trevor throws his elbow back with as much force as possible, nailing Dracula in the crotch. Next thing he knows the world upends itself as the hand at his shoulder seizes the scruff of his shirt and hauls him up to eye level.

“Let him-HEY!”

Sypha quickly receives the same treatment, legs flailing. Her foot nearly nails Trevor right in the stitches, Dracula holding them further apart.

“Calm down.”

“PUT US DOWN FIRST HOW ABOUT THAT!?”

“What’s going on?” A new voice asks, Dracula turning around still holding them aloft.

“Belmont finally made his appearance,” The white-haired boy says, speaking to another blond boy who Trevor immediately realizes has to be the infamous son of Dracula, ‘the Alucard.’

“Wait, that’s Belmont?” The newcomer demands incredulously, now seeming to really take Trevor in. He frowns, and Trevor bristles.

“Yeah? What about it?” He demands.

“I was expecting someone more...impressive.”

“WELL, I CAN SAY THE SAME THING ABOUT YOU!” Trevor snaps.

“Excuse me-?”

“EVERYONE STOP!” Lisa roars over all of them, bringing Trevor's and Sypha’s struggles to a stop. “That is quite enough from both of you! I realize you’re both afraid and confused, but as I’ve been assuring you all week, you are both safe here.”

“Yeah, and I’m Jesus of Nazareth,” Trevor replies with a roll of his eyes. 

“My wife speaks the truth, Belmont,” Dracula says. “So long as you remain my guests, you have nothing to fear from either me or anyone else who would bring you harm.”

“You mean just like Sara was safe?!” Trevor demands.

He sees something flash in Dracula’s eyes just before the world blurs. For a split second Trevor expects to get slammed into the ground face first. Instead, he’s just set on his feet a lot faster and a lot firmer than he’d been expecting, ending up falling on his butt the second Dracula releases his shirt. 

“Vlad!” Lisa exclaims reproachfully, helping Trevor up. He’s not hurt, more startled than anything so he lets her haul him up back to his feet even as Dracula sets Sypha down. “I realize it’s a painful memory-”

Painful?

“But you need to be more gentle than that!” 

“I apologize,” Dracula says, dodging his wife’s eye. “However, I was just thinking…”

He regards Trevor with an unreadable look. Trevor feels like a rabbit that had just been spotted by a fox, backing up right into Lisa without thinking. She places a reassuring hand on his shoulder, but it can hardly quell his racing heart as he expects Dracula to go back on his earlier promise.

Instead, Dracula says as he looks around at everyone present, “I was just thinking that if Belmont is well enough to wander the castle for a couple of hours, he’s well enough to hear the truth behind his clan’s war upon the night.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not all that exciting of a chapter, but I thought that since Hector and Sypha shined last chapter, it was only fair for Isaac and Trevor to have a chance in the spotlight. I'm surprised more fics don't put Isaac and Trevor in the same room together, they naturally play off each other really well. 
> 
> This took a while to write and TBH I'm not completely satisfied with it. Don't be surprised if the last couple of paragraphs in particular get rewritten tomorrow or the day after.


	9. Poppies and Forget-Me-Nots

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit: I added an illustration to the last chapter, so go ahead and check it out if you like
> 
> CONTENT WARNING: Mentions of past suicide.

Of course, getting Trevor to cooperate is pretty much exactly what Dracula expected from a Belmont.

That is to say, it’s like herding a bloody cat. A very angry cat.

So Dracula isn’t at all surprised when Belmont’s immediate response is another escape attempt, slipping out of Lisa’s grip and dodging Isaac’s attempt to seize hold of his shirt.

He is surprised, however, to see the Speaker get in Belmont’s way. The boy ends up skidding to a halt in front of her, bumping into her but managing not to bowl her over. 

“Wait.”

“Sypha?”

“I found some things that don’t add up,” Belnades says. “A lot of things that don’t make sense if the story you heard is true. I think we should hear him out at least.”

“Are you nuts - WHAT THE FUCK _ GET OFF ME!” _

In a red flash-step, Adrian comes up from behind Belmont before grabbing him in a sort of bear hug with his arms pinned and lifting him right off the ground.

“Hey-!” Belnades exclaims indignantly, distracted momentarily as she dodges one of Belmont’s flailing legs. Belmont violently struggles, practically throwing himself this way and that in his attempt to getaway.

“I’ve been waiting to hear this story all week, Belmont. I’m not letting you-”

Adrian doesn’t get to finish, cutting off with a cry as the back of Belmont’s skull crashes into his nose. He stumbles back as he drops Belmont, who ends up sitting on the floor recoiling in pain. 

“Are you okay?!” Several voices say at once, Belnades dropping to Trevor’s side as he clutches at his head while Lisa tends to Adrian. He’s fine, probably more startled than hurt, which is why Dracula isn’t concerned. 

At least not until he hears the frustrated growl from his son.

“Adrian-!” Lisa began, only for him to disappear in another flash step as Belmont gets to his feet.

Seeming to sense the oncoming attack Belmont turns just in time for Adrian to tackle him back to the ground. Both boys go tumbling, Belmont eventually managing to brace both feet into Adrian’s stomach and kicking him off and into a nearby chair with a crash.

“THAT’S IT!” Belnades exclaims fire magic coming alive at her fingertips aiming right for Adrian, who bares his fangs at her.

“ENOUGH!” Dracula roars along with Lisa, just as Isaac unmistakably goes for his forgemaster’s knife. Lisa likely doesn’t realize the danger, but he knows that if _ Isaac _ gets involved in the fight _ someone will die. _And strangely enough Dracula has a vested interest in keeping all the present human party alive. 

Everyone, Adrian and Belnades included freezes like deer. The only one who doesn’t freeze is the ever defiant Belmont, but it’s clearly a struggle. He’s hissing ‘ow, ow, ow,’ through his teeth as he gets up with a hand braced over his stitches.

Briefly, Dracula wonders if he should just enthrall Belmont, at least long enough for them all to get settled in a room, but Lisa renders that plan unnecessary as she angrily marches up to the child.

“I-” Belmont began, backing up, but she halted his progress with a hand at his shoulder.

“Stop it.” She says in her strictest tone. “Stop it right now. You have been here for a week, if anyone was going to harm you or Sypha we would have done it by now.”

“You-!”

“I’m not finished.” Lisa cuts him off impatiently. “I realize you have very little reason to trust Vlad knowing your family’s history with him, and I don’t fault your distrust. I might not know what horror stories you’ve heard or how many of them are true, but even if a single one of them is the slightest bit true, then your fear is more than understandable. But we are also trying to prove to you why you can trust us, and we can’t do that if you absolutely refuse to hear it.”

“You’re only going to stay here for a couple more weeks at the longest before you’re returned to your Speaker group.” Hector finally ventures, seeming to unfreeze now that it didn’t look like a violent brawl was about to occur. “You might as well hear Lord Dracula’s side of things.”

Belnades seems to take this as her cue, venturing towards Belmont and taking his hand, cupping a hand to her mouth as she whispers in his ear,_ “You always said outside of how he met Dracula most of Leon’s life before he came to Wallachia got lost. Don’t you want to hear what Leon was like from someone who actually knew him?” _

Dracula is likely the only one who heard her, but he can’t help smirking at what he hears. The Speaker clearly knows how to entice Belmont into complying, at least for a little bit. He can see the uncertainty and conflict in his eyes. 

“How do I know he’s going to tell the truth?” Belmont demands under his breath. “He keeps claiming he used to be friends with Leon.”

“That’s just it. I think he _ is _telling the truth.”

Belmont gives her such a look of betrayed outrage that Dracula almost wants to laugh at it, but before either of them can respond she takes Belmont’s hand and pulls him over to the door Hector still stood in. 

Dracula observes Isaac tensing ever so slightly as they approach Hector, but his concerns seem quickly put to bed as Sypha politely asks Hector if he could stand out of the way of the door. Hector complies with a curious look, letting her swing the door partly closed to reveal the freshly repainted Belmont coat of arms.

Belmont’s astonishment is immediate, a slight cry leaving his lips as he stares.

“Wha...What the _ fuck _?” 

“Ah, I suppose this room would serve us well,” Dracula says as he, Lisa, Isaac, and a rather put out Adrian approach. 

“Why-?”

“As Lisa has claimed before, Leon was indeed a dear friend of mine,” Dracula says, Adrian and Hector both exclaiming “WHAT” while Isaac just nods understandingly. “He, Sara, and eventually their children spent many a fall and winter in this room. I would have gladly had them all year round if not for their insistence on independence.”

He smiles at the memory, almost hearing Sonia and Gabriel’s happy chatter, Sara’s bell-like singing, and Leon’s laughter.

Belmont is so stunned that he lets himself be nudged gently inside, everyone pouring in until the door closes behind Adrian. 

The room had rearranged itself specifically for his intended purpose, the largest armchair, a smaller matching twin, and a lounging couch situated in a semi-circle at the foot of the large four poster bed. A familiar painting had found its way back into its original home, hung on the wall opposite the foot of the bed in such a way that it would be easily visible over the shoulder of the largest chair. 

“Oh, I didn’t see that before,” Sypha says, pointing to the painting. “That’s so pretty.”

“It’s so lifelike,” Hector says, blinking up at the painting curiously. “How did we miss it?” 

“That’s the painting that’s been in my room,” Trevor says, brow furrowing at it. “Don’t tell me…”

“This is indeed Leon himself. Leon, Sara, their daughter Sonia, and their son Gabriel,” Dracula says. “I painted this as a gift for them.”

“They really liked poppies,” Sypha observes, looking at the flowers weaved into Sonia’s hair.

“They were Sara’s favorite flower,” Dracula replies. “Leon was more partial to Forget-Me-Nots which I always thought was rather appropriate for him.”

Belmont has a strange look on his face, his expression caught somewhere between shock and distress. Dracula supposes this must fly in the face of everything Trevor understood about his own family, and if this is true, then what else did they get wrong.

Thankfully his surprise is making him far more pliable, letting Belnades take his hand again and lead him to the foot of the bed.

Without much preamble everyone situates themselves in seats most pleasing to them. Isaac and Hector comfortably share the chaise longue, with Isaac leaning against the arm nearest Dracula. Lisa takes her place at the smaller of the two armchairs at Dracula’s right hand while Dracula himself takes the largest seat in the middle. Meanwhile, the three youngest all clamber up to the foot of the bed, Belmont leaning against the rightmost post, Belnades seated neatly in the middle, and Adrian a little grumpily seated to the leftmost post due to the lack of any other seating.

Dracula might have wondered why an extra chair hadn’t been fetched by his castle but decided that it’s the least of his concerns at the moment. He can’t help glancing at Isaac. Truthfully he’s the one whose reaction to the story Dracula most dreads. While he’s uncertain of how Hector and Adrian will take it, he’s almost certain Isaac will react poorly to find out the exact nature of his falling out with Leon. 

“Before we begin, I’d like to hear what you know of the story, Belmont,” Dracula says.

Dutifully, Belmont tells the tale of a young former knight plagued by a vampire for years, of his poor wife desperately trying to create a weapon that would rid them of their abhorrent admirer, of how she was cruelly struck down upon discovering said weapon and her notes on its creation burned, and then of Leon’s declaration of vengeance and Dracula’s subsequent flight to Wallachia. He tells it to a stone-faced audience, and for a moment there’s silence as he finishes.

“Okay, so what actually happened, Father?” Adrian asks. 

“That doesn’t sound like anything Lord Dracula would do,” Hector observes. 

“Not to mention it doesn’t even make sense knowing that you were truly friends with them,” Isaac adds, trading mean looks with the Belmont as they glare at each other.

Dracula purses his lips, considering his words for a long moment. His hands unconsciously tighten on the armrests for just the briefest moment, before he finally lets go and says, “Unfortunately...the first half of his tale, of my having spent several years harassing Leon for my own amusement...that...is more or less true.”

He can feel everyone’s eyes on him, varying degrees of incredulity and shock on their faces. Even Belmont looked shocked at his having been in any part correct. Likely he had suspected that Dracula would throw out his tale entirely rather than admit that it was in any way true. 

Then everyone in his family, practically as one, exclaimed, “WHAT!?”

“HA!” Trevor points to Isaac with vindictive triumph. “I FUCKING TOLD YOU SO!”

“You must be joking,” Adrian says. “Why would you-”

“I was not the man that sits before you,” Dracula says with a sigh. “During that time I was little better than any of my generals. I was arrogant, complacent, entirely self-centered, and most of all painfully bored with the company of my court. I was desperate for a distraction, for relief of my dreary days and soon became fixated on Leon for that relief.”

“Why Leon?” Isaac asks, who seems over his shock at least. “What was so special about him that drew your attention?”

“I think it was less anything intrinsically special about him and more to do with the simple fact he was the first person to openly and willfully defy me in centuries.” Dracula replies. “Both that, and the first initial whip having been the first thing to bring me anything resembling harm. I saw potential in him, a potential to become a rival, someone to challenge me in a way I had long since forgotten the taste of.”

“However, I’m getting ahead of myself. I should start at the beginning. This tale truly starts not with Leon, but with his wife Sara as a young girl in Italy. She and her father Rinaldo Gandolfi were chiefly the entire reason Leon even survived his initial meeting with me, and it all began when a vampire took Sara’s sister Cecelia. She had been missing for weeks until one day she just shows up again without warning.”

“_ Shiiiit _, I already know where this is going,” Belmont says, openly grimacing. “Cecelia got turned didn’t she?”

“Indeed, I believe poor Cecelia is the origin behind the Belmont Clan’s fear of becoming vampires,” Dracula says gravely. “The vampire who turned her was...was everything I had been at the time but far, far worse. Cecelia during her absence had been turned and starved of blood for weeks on end during the most crucial stage of a fledgling’s development as a vampire. She had gone mad with hunger, and when she did, the vampire sicced her on her own family.”

Everyone goes quiet with horror. Even Isaac looks more than just a little perturbed at the idea. 

“Sara had been young at the time, young enough she remembered the event as something more akin to a nightmare, but old enough that she still remembered. Her mother died first, her brother, Gabriel - whom she would name her son after - had hauled Sara to her father’s workshop and locked her inside just before Cecelia killed him too. The only reason Sara survived that night was because her father came in just in time to save her. Unfortunately...Cecelia was too far gone, and he was forced to kill her.”

There’s utter silence through the room.

“That is what put Sara and her father on their path.” Dracula continues. “That event defined them both. Rinaldo swore vengeance on the vampire who had taken his wife and son and forced him to kill his own daughter. The rest of Sara’s childhood was spent traveling across Italy searching for this vampire and arming anyone unfortunate enough to go up against him. As I understand, Rinaldo was the one who physically forged the weapons while Sara was the one who gave them their power through enchantment. Eventually, their vampire moved to France, and they too followed. Sara was seventeen at the time, and that was when she met the woman who would become her best friend, Elisabetha.”

Lisa perks up at this, sitting up straighter in her seat.

“And then a year later at eighteen was when she finally met Leon for the first time. Now, Leon was very much the progenitor of your line. The Belmont family did not exist before him, he was an orphan who grew up in a small church. He didn’t even have a surname growing up, he chose his surname when he went to serve as a squire when he was fifteen, and there he met his best friend Trefor, your namesake. Whose actual name I never found out because Trefor was actually a nickname.

“They spent the rest of their childhood together until in their early twenties, as newly appointed knights, they hear word of a gorgon terrorizing one of the villages on the outskirts of France. That just so happened to be Sara’s village, and among the gorgon’s victims was Elisabetha. Despite their contrary orders, Leon and Trefor went out to defeat the gorgon and rescue those who could still be saved.

“To this day, I do not know what compelled Sara to do it, but it’s an action that may have very well saved Leon’s life. She gave Leon one of her leather whips, as a back up weapon against the Gorgon. I, unfortunately, do not have the details of the fight, but from what I was told, Leon ended up acting as the bait to draw her attention, using the reflection in his shield to fight while Trefor snuck up from behind her. Leon’s original sword was shattered during the fight, and in his desperation used the whip and successfully blinded her. Trefor meanwhile used the chance to lop her head off.

“They saved Elisabetha along with a few other men and women who hadn’t been statues for too long, they returned to much joy and festivities.”

Dracula can’t hide his boredom with the description, going through it as quickly as possible to get to the part most relevant to himself.

“Leon eventually decided to journey home by himself to report the death of the Gorgon. On his way home that fall night, that was when he met me. I had been just about to make a meal of some vagabond who said something, I don’t even remember what it was, just that it was offensive. Leon interfered.”

“Just like I said he did,” Trevor says, oh-so-very-maturely sticking his tongue out at Isaac, who in spite of his normal reserve and careful control of his expression, couldn’t help glaring back at Trevor with open irritation.

For a brief moment Dracula thought he saw himself and Leon in Isaac and Trevor respectively, and then wondered if perhaps - in spite of Trevor’s determination to make an absolute brat of himself - their acquaintance with each other may prove valuable, before he quickly discards the idea. These two, he suspects more than any of the other children, cannot be left unattended when in each other’s presence for too long. If a fight starts between them, a true fight and more than just irritating words, the results would be catastrophic. He is entirely certain that one or both of them would die. 

“I can assure you, Isaac, that Leon was far nobler than most people you have ever met. If you had the chance to know him, I suspect you would have at least found him tolerable if nothing else.” 

Whether or not Isaac would truly_ like _him, that was something no one could rightly speculate. 

“It was this initial interference that drew my attention to him. I could not remember the last time anyone had dared defy me, so Leon’s sudden appearance was most shocking.” Dracula says, noting the look of pride on Trevor’s face as he listens. “I can remember clear as crystal, our first words exchanged. I could not believe a human had actually tried to defy me and deduced that he must not have realized who I was, so I endeavored to tell him. I said ‘I am older than you can fathom. I have witnessed the rise and fall of kingdoms, the rule of Solomon, I am old enough to have known Christ himself.’ And would you like to know what Leon deigned to say in response?”

At everyone’s intent nods he replies, “Leon said, ‘Did you know Christ Himself?”

Silence follows before Hector snorts. He covers his mouth as Isaac shoots him a dirty look, but even muffled Hector’s laughter causes the three youngest to break.

“That’s a good question though!” Trevor manages out through snickers. “_ Did _ you actually know Jesus?”

“I did not. So shocked was I by his response that I couldn’t come up with a better reply than other than telling him that I hadn’t. He then demanded to know if I had actually seen the rule of Solomon. Which I hadn’t but at that moment I realized that my entire bloody point had apparently sailed right over his head.”

“Was he an imbecile?” Isaac asks, adding in a not at all disguised undertone, “Like a certain one of his descendants.”

“Fuck you too buddy.” Trevor snaps.

“Isaac, you shouldn’t say such things, it’s needlessly mean-spirited.” Lisa scolds before rounding on Belmont. “And I’ve had just about enough of your foul language, Trevor. Do you kis-”

Dracula could practically see Lisa’s mental backpedal, her voice wavering slightly as she quickly rephrases, “Do you really _ need _to curse so much?”

Belmont opens his mouth with a mean look, probably preparing to curse the air blue just out of spite, only for Belnades’s hand to stop him as she quickly muffles whatever he was going to say.

“No, he really doesn’t need to swear so much,” Belnades says. “Trevor would it kill you not to provoke -”

With a disgusted cry, she whips her hand back and frantically wipes it on her dress. It wasn't hard to surmise what had happened as Belmont's tongue darts back into his mouth.

“For goodness sake, Trevor, are you five?!”

“We’re getting off track,” Adrian complains. 

“Indeed,” Dracula agrees even as he chuckles at the two guests glowering at each other. “But to answer your question Isaac, no he was not. In fact he _ had _understood my point, he just intentionally ignored it in favor of focusing on his own. Because right after I admitted to not having seen Solomon’s rule, he then demanded to know what was the point of me having been so old if I hadn’t seen anything interesting. He thought it akin to me bragging about all the history I missed.”

“That is a pretty good point though,” Trevor says, with a slight snicker. 

“As I am now, I agree with you, but then I was far too vexed with him to see his point,” Dracula says. “I doubt I need to go into the results of that particular fight. He lost.”

He didn’t like looking back at how he had originally treated Leon. While he certainly hadn’t been needlessly cruel, in fact he had done much worse for much less to others, he still hadn’t been gentle. Remembering the genuine fear in Leon’s eyes brought him no joy, he had nothing but reproach for his own actions.

“I spared him, obviously. I spared him because I liked his cheek and his willingness to defy me, and I left him with the advice that he should get another one of those interesting whips. I think I still have it, somewhere in the Castle. I’d taken that first one as a trophy of sorts.

“This part I know second hand. Leon went back to Sara precisely to get another whip. Unfortunately, being an orphan who grew up in a Church, Leon had not a penny to spend on whips.”

“They were really going to force him to pay for something his life depended on?” Isaac asks.

“As much as I think they would have loved to supply him with whips pro-bono, I think they also had to do things like y’know... eat. Put clothes on their backs. Put a roof over their heads. _ Pay _ for the fucking supplies to make the damn whips in the first place, that shit gets _ expensive_.” Trevor replies.

“They did agree to supply him with whips for free, on one particular condition,” Dracula says. “If he ever managed to kill me, he had to go after the vampire they were after. As I understand a lot of Leon’s free time when not indulging my desire for a challenge was spent searching for leads on their vampire. It’s their condition on top of my regular calls on him that led to his decision to quit the knights and take up the path of a hunter instead.

“Regular calls, that’s a funny way of saying _ harassing _him.”

“I admit it freely,” Dracula says. “As I have said, I was not the man that sits before you. And rest assured, Leon felt much the same. He did take to his new career, thinking that perhaps God had put me on his path specifically to drive him to become a hunter instead. He was indeed surprisingly well-adapted for it.”

“How did he and Sara fall in love and get married?” Belnades asks.

“I doubt they actually fell in love,” Isaac says.

The statement is so utterly contrary to what Dracula knew of the couple that it takes a great deal of self-control not to burst out in a laugh. He keeps his composure, however. Knowing Isaac’s feelings on the subject of love, he wouldn’t appreciate Dracula finding any amusement in it.

“I can assure you again, Isaac, that they were indeed in love. I can’t tell you the exact circumstances that facilitated their relationship, but I can say with confidence that their marriage was one chosen in love more than any other reason.” Dracula assures, before adding almost offhandedly. “Anything short of love couldn’t have compelled Sara’s regular habit of assaulting me with frying pans.”

This got several bewildered blinks from all the children, and even Lisa has gone positively bug-eyed. Then Belmont manages out with an incredulous crack in his voice, “WHAT?”

“As I was saying-” Dracula continues with a controlled countenance, only for it to crack with a chuckle as Adrain now indignantly interjects,

“Hang on you can’t just gloss over that!”

“She used to _ what_?” Hector repeats incredulously. 

“Hit me with a frying pan.” Dracula clarifies and whatever composure the room had is immediately lost. The ridiculousness of someone, anyone, trying to assault Vlad Dracula Tepes with a frying pan, was too much for anyone to keep their countenance. Except for Isaac, who almost managed to look completely unaffected by the information. Almost. His mouth is twitching at the corners. “And I want you lot to appreciate just how utterly absurd it is. Leon was one of the tallest humans I had ever met, he was the closest person that I am aware of to match my height and he still only came up to my nose even while wearing riding boots. As you can tell from the painting behind me, Sara was roughly a foot shorter than him. She came up to roughly my chest. She wasn’t even tall enough to swing it normally, she had to heave it overhead because she couldn’t _ reach _otherwise.”

The description causes everyone to devolve into renewed laughter, Belmont clutching over his stitches as tears form in his eyes. Even Isaac’s stone-faced facade cracks and he’s struggling to get it back under control.

“How did you not kill her?” Isaac asks, wheezing a little bit before coughing and managing to calm down again.

“The sheer unabashed audacity of the action shocked me so much I couldn’t react properly,” Dracula admitted. “I couldn’t fathom anyone, especially someone as intelligent as Sara, could honestly think that a frying pan, a completely ordinary frying pan, was an effective weapon against a vampire.”

“Okay so that’s why you didn’t kill her the first time, but what about every time after that?” Lisa asked. “You said it was a habit. That implies that it happened more than once.”

“How’d you even get into a situation where she _ could _hit you with a frying pan?!” Belnades demands.

“I think I’ll save the exact details of that particular story for another night,” Vlad says. “If I sit here and regale you all with every single escapade I shared with the progenitor Belmont couple, we’d be here the rest of the night and well into the next day. However, Sara usually resorted to the frying pan whenever she caught me inside their house uninvited. As for why I never killed her, honestly, it’s only in hindsight that I realize that I allowed her to get away with it because I couldn’t bring myself to do it. At the time I justified letting her live because killing her when Leon had such a clear, unabashed, and fervent attachment to her would bereave him and thus affect his ability to fight properly, as well as the fact that without her whips Leon would lose the one edge he had over me.”

“But…?” Lisa prompts.

“Truthfully I didn’t want to hurt him,” Vlad says. “I enjoyed our fights less as fights and more as sparring, my continuing to pester them had long since stopped being about entertainment and more because I enjoyed their company far more than that of my generals. I was in denial however, convinced I merely saw him as a means of ending my own boredom even though he had long since grown to mean more. It’s here that I should mention that Elizabetha, Sara’s best friend at the time, also played a major role. I had instigated a relationship with her and, while we were courting, she helped me realize at least in some small part the terrible effect I was having on Leon and Sara and their mental well-being. She also, correctly, realized that what I wanted from them was their companionship, not their competition, though it wouldn’t be until a particular event that I would finally believe her.”

“And that event was-?” 

“It was the first time I truly considered Leon a threat,” Vlad says. “It was about a year or two after he and Sara were married, and was when Sara had finally made her magnum opus, the Belmont’s treasured heirloom, the Morningstar whip. Leon thought he had found a lead to Rinaldo and Sara’s vampire, but he’d been led into a trap that, had I not seen him escape myself, I would have believed it certain death.”

“Leon had been lured into the prison of the Forgotten One,” Dracula says. “As its name suggests, the creature was so old that its origins had been forgotten by time. No one knows what it was, where it came from, nor even its true name, though there were several theories. Some say humanity created it, others say that vampires had. Some thought it was an ancient god, others a demon. Leon came out of the experience _ convinced _ it was the physical manifestation of Satan. No one knows for certain. The only thing we knew was what it wanted: the absolute and total destruction of _ everything _. Every plant, every animal, every person both human and non-human alike, it wanted destroyed. It would have razed everything on the planet if left to its own devices.

As Dracula spoke he allows his former fear to show in his voice, far graver than he usually holds himself and it has the intended effect. Everyone had gone very quiet, no one telling jokes or smirking. 

“Our ancient ancestors, all of our ancestors both vampire and human alike, somehow managed to subdue the creature. They tried to kill it. They tore it in half, ripped off its right arm, and even skinned it alive, and yet it still lived. The pure and utter _ malice _and hatred of all things even vaguely living kept it alive and going even as its body rotted and putrefied.” 

“Eventually, our ancestors managed to imprison it through arts long, long since lost. Its prison was the most closely guarded secret amongst the vampires, but it wouldn’t be until years and years later that I would discover that the second eldest among us, Walter Bernhard, enjoyed luring hunters into its den. Leon had been the very last victim, however. For the Forgotten One - after so many millennia it had blighted this earth - finally met its end.”

“Did you save him from the Forgotten One and kill it?” Adrian asked eagerly.

“In a way, I did save Leon from the Forgotten One, but no, nothing so heroic,” Dracula says. “I am forced to give all the credit to Leon. He, by himself, did what no vampire had dared to do in thousands of years. He, with nothing but his sword and the whip his wife made, killed the Forgotten One.”

“Hell yeah!” Trevor cheers. 

“It was a pyrrhic victory, however,” Dracula continues. “Leon had been poisoned and cursed to Hell and back again, had hobbled out of its den with just enough energy to vomit outside the door, limped a couple more feet, and then dropped into a coma. I don’t know how long he lay there until I found him, but when I discovered him and that the Forgotten One was no more...that was the first time I realized the monster I had created. It was the first time I looked at Leon and saw the end of myself and my own kind.”

“Basically that was the first time you actually realized ‘oh shit, I’m in trouble.’” Trevor says smugly.

“Yes. And I concluded that I had to kill him. When I walked up to him to do the deed, however, I...couldn’t bring myself to. Neither could I stand to leave him in the condition he was in, certain to expire from exposure if not the poison in his blood. All I could think of was how it would affect Sara, how it would affect Elisabetha, and...how it would affect me. I was forced to confront the fact that I had long since grown far too attached to him for it merely to be simply a matter of entertainment.”

“So you saved him and nursed him back to health?” Isaac asks.

“Indeed, as well as kept him hidden from the other vampires when it was inevitably discovered that the Forgotten One had died,” Vlad says. “Needless to say, that was likely the start of the Belmont family’s infamy among vampires, though later events would solidify it.”

“And Leon just _ forgave _you for the years of harassment and letting him think you were going to kill him eventually?” Trevor asks doubtfully.

“Well, not right away. However, on top of the fact Leon already had a very forgiving nature, the aftermath of his battle with the Forgotten One had left him bedridden for months and it took well over a year for him to completely recover. That gave me enough time to prove my sincerity to him, his wife, and to Elisabetha. Interestingly despite not being the direct victim of my attention, Sara took by far the longest to warm up to me. That woman could hold a _ grudge _.”

“After that, it was...almost like we were_ meant _to be friends, how easily Leon and I fit together. He seemed to make it his personal mission to deflate my ego as much as he could with good-humored jests and mockery that was just as amusing as it was annoying. Sara did take longer to come around, but I actually valued her friendship and good opinion all the more for it. She had good sense and was incredibly intelligent. And Elisabetha...she was my first love. Her charm and her countenance drew me in and ensnared me as none had ever done before. For the next six or seven years that I was friends with them and I was almost deliriously happy. I hadn’t realized just how empty and lonely my existence was until they started to visit my castle regularly. So many things happened during that time. Elisabetha and I were married, I helped deliver Sonia and then her brother Gabriel, Leon began building his reputation as a vampire hunter as well as terrifying the rest of my court which I found incredibly amusing. Sara had also built her own reputation as a weapon-maker and I taught Elisabetha how to heal while she taught me how to socialize.”

“You mean like-” Adrian looks at Lisa who also has a look of dawning comprehension.

“Yes, I admit in some parts Lisa does remind me of Elisabetha, just a little bit at times. While it plays a part of my own fondness for you, Lisa, it’s only a small part.” Dracula says, smiling as he regards his wife.

It immediately drops almost a moment later as he realizes, now he’s gotten to the worst part.

“The beginning of the end came with Elisabetha’s death,” Dracula says, his grip tightening on the armrests. “To this day I don’t know what caused it. She just...went to sleep one day and never woke up. It took us all by surprise and to say we were bereaved would be an incredible understatement. It nearly drove me mad with grief...but it also opened my eyes. So happy I was with my new found companionship, I had completely forgotten how short our time together was. Or rather, it hadn’t felt real until I lost Elisabetha. I couldn’t...I couldn’t fathom losing Leon and Sara as well so I offered to turn them into vampires.”

“They said no.”

Remembering how his hopes had been crushed with that single word still brought him pain, and as everyone stares at him apprehensively, he takes a moment to collect himself.

“It’s only in hindsight that I realize what made them hesitate. They were proud of their humanity and they feared to lose themselves, if something fundamental about who they are as individuals would change upon becoming vampires. They were frightened of eternity, of watching the world change around them as they remain ever the same. Perhaps if I had been more patient. Perhaps if I had soothed their fears, explained that becoming vampires wouldn’t change who they are in their hearts, that eternity is so much less frightening when one has people they love with them…”

“But...no. I was frightened. All I could think was if one or both of them died just like Elisabetha did. What if a vampire got a lucky shot on Leon and drained him. What if Sara caught a disease and expired. Hell, what if something drops on either of their heads or some thug on the streets or even a rabid dog got them? So many things that could kill them before I could persuade them. Why shouldn’t I turn them? They’re_ humans_, they’re only a couple steps above animals and less than that in some cases. They can’t possibly fathom what they’re turning down after all. They’ll be happier as vampires. Or so I had convinced myself.”

“I don’t like where this is going…” Trevor says with none of his bratty behavior or sarcasm. Everyone had a sneaking suspicion where the story was leading and no one looked happy with it. Even Isaac was staring at him with a certain apprehension in his eyes.

“...I make no excuses. What I did next, Leon never forgave me for and neither have I. I...I knew that they would never forgive me if I turned them against their wills.”

“Vlad, don’t tell me…”

“But I knew, I knew beyond a doubt that if one became a vampire, the other would not hesitate despite whatever reservations they originally had. So I...made an arrangement with my former right-hand general at the time, a vampire by the name of Walter Bernhard. In doing so, I made the single worst decision I have ever made in my entire life.”

Vlad pauses at this, closing his eyes.

“I want you to recall what I first told you in the beginning, how this tale truly began with Sara’s sister being kidnapped and turned by an elder vampire.”

The effect was immediate. The slowly growing dread of the room turns to palpable horror, everyone staring at him with varying degrees of shock and reproach on their faces.

“You didn’t…”

“Bernhard was that vampire,” Vlad confirms. “He was the oldest after me, and once very long ago I considered him a friend, though we had drifted apart. My plan had been to have him take Sara while Leon was out of town, then he would turn and seemingly abandon Sara the next night. Her transformation would naturally muddy her memories and render Bernhard unidentifiable. It seemed the perfect plan. With Sara a vampire, Leon would naturally come to me - the only vampire he trusted - to be turned himself. I would save them both from the clutches of Death, and keep them beside me.”

“I was a fool. A selfish fool.” Dracula says. “I had allowed myself to grow arrogant in my own power that I had forgotten that I was only the eldest. I had forgotten that just as I had Castlevania, Bernhard had his forest of eternal night, and he could manipulate time within his own walls, causing weeks to pass by in a single day on the outside. I went to bed in the morning confident that when I woke, everything would have fallen perfectly in place. Instead, when I woke, everything had fallen apart.”

“He did to Sara what he had done to her sister.”

“Oh God-” Belmont breathes out while Belnades now shivers next to him. Adrian has this terrible look of disbelief and confusion on his face. Hector was staring at Dracula with an open look of horror while Isaac just stares almost through him. 

“I found her village massacred.” Dracula continues, flashing back to that horrible night. “Never had such a sight affected me before or since. I did not care for them as I had Leon, Sara, and Elisabetha, but they...I supposed I cared a little, if only because my friends and wife cared for them. I found Trefor and the two children hidden in a secret room underneath the floorboards in their house, which was the only relief I found that night. Rinaldo...I think he had neither the ability nor the heart to kill his only living daughter, even to save his own life. And worst of all...worst of all when I found Sara I realized…”

His claws dig into the upholstery of his armchair, stuffing bursting out as he slices them open. He has to close his eyes again to reign in the emotions threatening to well up.

When he does, he opens his eyes again and says with sorrow in his voice, “...I think she came back to her senses, at least a little bit. Perhaps after gorging on so much blood, she came back to herself...enough to realize the carnage she had wrought upon her own village. But she wasn’t completely within her right mind, she couldn’t have been. If she had truly been...she never would have made her next...and final decision...to drive a stake into her own heart.”

“She killed herself?” Lisa asks in a tremulous voice, the unspoken accusation more in her tone than her words.

Dracula doesn’t meet her eye. He can’t stand to meet anyone’s eye, perhaps her and Isaac most of all. He can all but hear his former pedestal starting to crack.

_ ‘You drove her to suicide?’ _

“I was enraged. I felt betrayed. How dare Bernhard conspire against me. The things I wanted to do to that miserable little pile of secrets are such that would put to shame every horror story of me the Belmont family has ever archived. But mixed with that rage was fear. Leon had returned earlier than I had anticipated and had found his own village in ruins...and what had become of his wife. Overcome with wrath unusual to his character, he charged into Bernhard’s castle to kill the vampire himself.

“Which was precisely Bernhard’s plan. He wanted to lure me into his domain so he could kill me and take over as King of the Vampires, and he was going to use Leon as bait. Unfortunately for Bernhard, it was his own undoing. Leon killed him, though perhaps it was lucky for him. Leon at his absolute cruelest paled in comparison to my own, even to those who deserve cruelty. But...in that bastard’s final moments...he exposed my involvement with Sara’s turning and subsequent suicide.”

“...I doubt I need explain what happened afterward. To say Leon was angry with me, would be a gross understatement. Leon...lost faith in me and any other vampire that night.”

“Is that when Leon declared war on the night?” Belmont asks, voice solemn. Dracula almost wishes he’d continue his earlier bratty behavior, instead of being so clearly affected in a way he cannot tell is for good or for ill. 

He could end it here. He can just say yes and let them move on from it. Pretend that he hadn’t just dug his hole even deeper. But...he swore to tell the truth.

“I wish that were the case, so I could leave with a modicum of respect. But that would be dishonest. The truth of the matter is that the second I realized he found out...I tried to turn him by force.”

“You-!”

“At that moment I didn’t care if he hated me for the rest of eternity, all I could think was that at least he’d be alive for that eternity.” Dracula cuts Belmont off. “But sure enough, Leon would come out on top for the first time in that moment. In an ironic echo of our first interaction, he spared me that night. Spared me because it was the cruelest thing he could think of doing, forcing me to live with the consequences of my own actions. And he swore that the moment I stepped out of line, the moment I tried to use humanity for my own amusement, his family would come knocking at my door to take me down.” 

“The rest,” Dracula sighs, letting his head fall for a moment. “The rest was history I suppose. I moved to Wallachia, Leon quickly followed. Then five years later, my former goddaughter alongside her other godfather Trefor, contacted me through the Carpathian mirror I had once given Leon and Sara. They...informed me that Leon had died of a heart attack.”

Broken heart syndrome, to be precise but he couldn’t bring himself to muse on how tragically appropriate Leon’s death had been, to literally die of a broken heart.

“Sonia, who had only been a little younger than you are now, Belmont, swore to continue her father’s legacy. That she and any of her future children would find a way to take me down even if it took until the end of time itself. She then broke the mirror using Morningstar, likely to prevent me from trying to reach them on the other side of it.”

The room falls into silence for a moment as he takes a breath to collect himself. He then sits up, gazing at them all with solemnity.

“And that, children, is the truth behind Leon’s war upon me and the night.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoo boy this one was the one I was looking forward to the most because this is actually going to be a big turning point for a lot of characters, Isaac and Trevor in particular. 
> 
> Next Chapter should be from Isaac's point of view and unlike Hector's chapter where I had originally predicted it would be Dracula's, I'm actually certain this time it's going to be Isaac's. Let's just say the guy has a lot of confused emotions right now.


End file.
